Pantheon
by pteradon
Summary: Your world is split into pieces. Completely alone and nobody will help you. Everyone you loved are dead, and your future doesn't look bright. But the contract is already signed, destination determined and therefore: PERSONA
1. Prologue

From Author:  
Ehm, hello everybody. I'm pteradon and that's my first story translated on English. Yep, you're not misread it. This story is already written (but not finished for now), but in another language on another site. So quite obvious that my native language isn't English and to that circumstance i must apologise for terrible grammar, inaccurate and unreadable sentences et.c. I' m really trying to improve (and looking for beta of course)

So, hope you will enjoy it.

* * *

 **Prologue**

Velocity and Assault slowly made their way through the empty hospital corridors. Though, strictly speaking it was impossible to call this place "hospital". Hospice, no more than that. However, it was like a miracle, how could a hospice exist in conditions of such city as Brockton Bay, where Panacea was actively practicing. But it existed. Before today.

This place was … died out. And it was the best definition of that state of silent horror that heroes were experiencing right now . Patients, medical staff of a hospice, all these people were dead. There were no horror masks on a face, there were no broken bodies specifying violent at all. They seemed to have died instantly, as if they had just fallen to the ground in order not to wake up anymore. It was terrifying

Miss Militia and the Armsmaster were in an opposite wing of the building now. That allowed to cover bigger radius and to narrow the search for the causes of ... This Terror. Remaining heroes stood in a cordon now, without allowing somebody to enter the building and wha was more important... To leave it. Also there were forces of the New Wave in full strength on a case of unforeseen circumstances in three minutes from there. Whatever happened here, the Protectorate could not allow it to go beyond this building. Otherwise the victims count could be much … much more.

Suddenly, attention of heroes was drawn by the strange sound. It was dreadful mix between a scratch, shout, growl and ten more sounds which they cannot recognize in all desire. But this sound was illogicly wrong. Un-natural. Un-human. at his partner, Velocity realized that he was not the only one who heard this. Having exchanged glances, the two heroes rushed towards the source of the sound.

It was small hospital ward in section for hopeless patients. It was a Hospice, after all, but here lay people with most complicated cases, people whose life was completely dependent depended from life support devices. As it approached, the sound grew louder and became more and more unnatural. It would seem that sound was not reflecting from walls, on the contrary - It pierced through them. Velocity felt that his head slowly started to ache. About himself he sighed, being absolutely sure that after this he would be inevitably placed under the Master/Stranger protocol . And he'd be damned if that voice...sound, whatever hell it is has something in slightest similar to that voice of Simurg.

At last they reached a door.

Velocity looked back on nodded at the door and prepared for battle. He quietly and slowly opened a door and looked inside. In his superspeed-mode, of later he freezed out on a place, falling out of the accelerated status.

He managed to see a lot of disgusting and terrifying things during his career as a cape . Several years of fight against various threats, from supervillains to Endbringers - the monsters who were capable to destroy whole nations. He remembered what happened in Ellisburg after Nilbog's madness. But even this life experience was not enough to remain quiet and indifferent in case of that picture he saw.

It was a small chamber. Even smaller than the rooms in which they had looked in before. Almost all the free space of the chamber was occupied by numerous medical equipment for life support. Apparatus for respiratory support, artificial dialysis, intravenous nutrition from droppers. Dozens of wires and tubes separated from the snow-white apparatus and converged in the center. But the centerpiece of the room was ... Something.

It... it had a humanoid form, dressed in some sort of army overcoat of some grayish fabric with a red border and metal buttons. On the hands of this creature were immaculately white gloves. In combination with the same immaculate white jackboots and a huge broadsword attached to the belt with a huge golden badge, he would create the image of some military officer... if not for the triangular bone mask with huge teeth and eight coffins that soared under the ceiling, creating a kind of halo .

The creature paid no attention to Velocity. General Attention of this creature was focused on the hospital bed standing in the middle of the ward. Creature's hands, clad in white gloves, shook the bed back and forth, as if shaking a cradle with a baby. The bed creaked plaintively, opposed to the unnaturalness of these movements, but the entity clearly possessed superhuman strength.

It took a certain amount of effort to allay the trembling and find the strength to transfer the view to the hospital bed. Covered by a thin blanket, a young girl was lying on her...

….what should have been a young girl.

But with all of his tact, Velocity could not say that the girl looked good or healthy in any degree.

Pale face with huge bruise under her only visible eye. Another one was covered with a huge white patch bandage and Velocity seriously doubted that it was done without reason. Many terrible, ugly scars on the entire surface of the hands, as if someone had torn the pieces of meat from her body. Concealed chest, general dystrophy. Velocity did not know what exactly happened here, but looking at the monster that rocked the girl who was at least unconscious, he definitely had some thoughts about what could have caused this.

Velocity swallowed nervously. It was quite obvious that the cause of everything that happened here was precisely this ... being, apparently some kind of Projection. And if his assumptions were correct, then without the participation of the girl, this projection cannot be removed.

Having coped with the emotions, Velocity left the room, carefully closing the door behind him and turned to Assault looking at him. Their exchange of views lasted for a few seconds, after which both simultaneously reached for the radio

\- Assault - PRT, we found the probable cause of the incident. One of the patients. Little girl, probably trigger, right now in coma or something like that, there is a projection hanging above her in a meter, which publishes inhuman sounds. Requesting assistance from Panacea.

 _\- Understood, Assault. Stay where you are and wait for the Armsmaster and Miss Militia to arrive. You need to make sure that the projection is safe before New Wave allows Panacea to begin treatment._

\- Acknowledged, Assault out.

 _Three hours ago._

Her world was like a pile of broken glass. The once-solid canvas of her mind was now as if they were crushed into tens and thousands of shards, each of those had its sharp and obtuse angles. And putting those pieces together was practically impossible.

Consciousness returned to her with excruciating pain. The pain was everywhere. Splitting her head, crumbling her legs, burning her skin. Every cell in her body ached and groaned in agony.

 _Who is she? How did she get here?_ _What happened?_ \- all these questions surfaced in her pain-filled mind. Her memory now was like a sky puzzle for a thousand details, which a curious three-year-old child scattered around a huge azure-painted room.

Thinking was painful. Thoughts flowed with the speed of a viscous jelly and did not want to clarify.

 _ **Taylor.**_  
She remembered. Her name was Taylor Hebert. Was she ... fifteen? She had ... parents. Yes, she had parents.

But then…

Then…

Someone _died_. But who?

Head pierced with pain. More than before.

 _Annette!_

The one who died was named Annette?

Then her mother died? It is so?

The question addressed to her own memory remained unanswered.

She tried to open her eyes. Muscles ... muscles did not obey her, as if rusting mechanisms from long non-use. Her eyelids seemed to be made of the heaviest lead she had ever seen.

But she kept trying. She continued and her attempts were rewarded with success. A light that she seemed not to have seen for an eternity struck her in the eyes. More precisely on the eye. It is not clear why her second eye saw only darkness.

Eyes immediately watered, trying to adapt to an abrupt change and her gaze began to blur. She felt that the other feelings begin to return to her.

First came the hearing. The measured buzz of unknown devices was accompanied by a non-stop squeak of other machines whose purpose she probably knew, but for some reason could not remember.

The next sense was smelling, immediately catching some strange and slightly harsh smells that surrounded her. And again she could not remember where she was and what this place looked like. As if the associative chain broke off, not reaching the end. The puzzle detail did not want to fall into place.

All she could see was only a gray ceiling, with some lighters which looked damped for some reason. Body refused to obey to her and she could not move at all. Her tongue felt like as if it has rooted to the top and refused to move.

Meanwhile, her awakening clearly did not go unnoticed. In any case, her newly-established hearing caught the sound of an opening door and someone's quick steps that approached it. After a few seconds, she felt the upper half of her body begin to rise, as if some kind of mechanism lifted the bed.

Her eye focused on the man who stood before her. He was a man about forty, with a small beard and brown eyes with thin glasses. A white dressing gown was thrown over his shoulders.

The man caught her eye and interpreted it correctly.

\- Miss Hebert? If you understand me blink twice.

Taylor fulfilled the request of the man, still not quite aware of what was happening. The man Еnodded in satisfaction.

\- Well. First of all, you are safe. Our department was created specifically for such patients as ... - the man continued to say something, but Taylor no longer listened to him.

Did he say "patients"?

So she is in the hospital? How did she get here?

Where is father?

What happened?

Taylor tried to find her latest significant event in her memory.

Was it January 9th? Typical day. Friday. Lesson with Mr. Gladley. She saw Emma, Sophia and Madison again ...

Emma?

Sofia?

Madison?

If earlier her head just hurt, now it seemed as if someone had driven a thousand red-hot nails into her brain all at once and let electric current pass through them in a couple of tens of thousands of volts.

 **Δολοφόνοι**

What was that? Strange language. Unfamiliar, unknown.  
Whence? No, what's going on? Why did she think about the Trio, how she ...

 **Οι εκτελεστές αθώων**

Again. This voice. Where is it from? Why does it seems so familiar? Why can't she remember what happened? Where is her father?

The doctor seemed to understand that something was wrong, as his voice had become sharply restless.

\- Miss Hebert, what happened? Please calm down, nothing threatens you!

Nothing threatens?

And something threatened her?

Yes? Not?

Why can't she remember?

 **Πέθανε**

This voice. Is it answering to her? She had a feeling that it is telling something important, but she can not understand. She went crazy? But then why doesn't she even understand the voice in her head? Questions. Too many questions in her head and too few answers.

Why can't she remember?

 **Ψυχή σου φώναξε**

It really answers to her. Unfamiliar voice. Such ... inhuman. Such ... Extraterrestrial. But ... she knows him. Definitely knows. But from where?

She must remember. Must.

The pain began to intensify again, which apparently affected the apparatus.

\- Miss Hebert, calm down! Sister, sedative in the 314th, quickly! - the doctor almost shouted into a small walkie-talkie attached to a bathrobe.

 **Η Θάλασσα των Ψυχών σα άκουσε**

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow._

Four words. Associative series. Emptiness. Open chain of memories.

Taylor again stopped seeing anything, the darkness covered her eyes again, and the headache that with each heartbeat increased more and more.

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. #! eK√╓ → /._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. #! eK√╓ → /._

 **Υπογράψατε τη [σύμβαση]**

Winslow. It all comes down to school. She knew that.

What happened?

Something happened to her. Something bad enough for her to be here.

Trio.

It must have been them. They did something.

Have done with her.

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. T! eK√╓ → /._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. Tr eK√╓ → /._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. TrieK√╓ → /._

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow. Trig K√╓ → /._

 _ **Trigger**_

A revolver drum clicked in her head, replacing an empty nest with a loaded one.

 **Ανακαλύψατε [Προορισμός]**

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. Winslow._ _ **Trigger**_

The puzzle fell into place, the integrity was restored, the picture was assembled from fragments. A headache that tormented her mind in an instant receded, leaving her mind in the crystal clarity of thin crystal.

She opened her one eye to look into the eyes of the doctor who was now leaning over her. But catching her gaze, he seemed to recoil, turning a little pale.

Father. She did not see him. The doctor did not say anything about him. She didn't like it.

Was it a premonition?

No. Knowledge.

Something went wrong.

She tried to say, but her tongue seemed stuck to the palate, and the tubes in her throat prevented her from speaking.

But she said. She didn't know how, but she said.

 _What about my father?_

From the side, her voice seemed to be a dead man's whisper, devoid of emotions and full of some inhuman lifelessness.

"Miss Hebert, your father, he ..." and then the doctor made a fatal mistake that launched a chain of very unpleasant events for many people.

Dr. Stevenson hesitated.

 **Είτε το όνομά μας**

\- _What happened to father?_ \- she repeated her question, not really thinking about how she could speak. It didn't matter. Secondary.

Danny was more important.

\- Listen, Miss Hebert. I don't want to lie to you, but you need to calm down. Now the nurse will come and give you an injection ...

- _I must know._

"Miss Hebert ..."

 _ **\- Tell me!**_

The doctor sighed.

\- Fine. Your father, he ... passed away. Almost three weeks ago.

 _ **Tηλεφωνήστε μας**_

\- How did it happen?

\- Heart attack. I am very sor... - Dr. Johnson did not have time to finish his words. The last words in his life. Because at this very moment, Taylor Hebert screamed

 **[Ανα άτομο]**

 _Six hours later. Protectorate Tower. Briefing room._

Emily Piggott tiredly rubbed her nose. Today could hardly be worse.

\- So, what do we have at the moment? - she looked in the direction of one of the officers, who was holding a tablet. He got up and clicked on several sensors, leading out information onto the big screen.

\- The identity of parahuman discovered by Assault and Velocity is established. - A picture of a young girl with black curly hair and simple black glasses appeared on the screen, - Taylor Hebert, fifteen years old. High School Student Winslow.

\- "The one that the Shadow Stalker goes to," Piggot affirmed the obvious fact. The officer nodded, confirming what the director said. Then he continued:

\- Parents: Annette Rose Hebert and Daniel Hebert. Both deceased. Annette died in August 2008 in a car accident, Daniel - two weeks ago, from a heart attack.

"Hebert ... somehow I know that name ..." Jessica Yamada muttered to herself. After thinking for a while she snapped her fingers - was it not him who was the spokesman for the Dockers Union?

"Yes, he was," the Armsmaster's voice replied through the communication systems. All the heroes of the Protectorate were now connected to the intercom in the hall, and several screens on the far wall broadcasted image from the cameras on their suits. - met him several times while discussing the problem of cleansing the Brockton Bay.

\- Enough. - the director stopped unnecessary conversations, returning everyone to the main subject, - what happened to her? Is that really trigger-like situation?

Officer nodded, continuing the report.

"We have no reliable data on what exactly happened, but with the help of an analysis from Dr. Yamada — the officer showed a psychologist who nodded her thanks — could establish that with a high degree of probability Miss Hebert was systematically subjected to bullying for a very long period of time.

"Miss Yamada, on what basis did you draw your conclusions?" - Piggot switched to a full-time psychologist. Mean hurried to answer.

\- I came across a similar events earlier. Her schoolmarks, which were so consistently high, suddenly began to leap, especially for homework for which she received F's, due to lacking of that homework, moreover, the work performed in the class and not requiring interaction with other students she performed at the same consistently high level. This is not enough, but it is most likely outcome.

Piggot rubbed her nose again. There always were problems from these teenagers, Wards and their antics were enough for her, and now this Hebert ...

\- Thank you, Yamada. So, we suppose, that they bullied her. But what brought her to a coma? She tried to make a conflict with her offenders?

"We don't know that, ma'am." Four weeks ago, Miss Hebert asked for leave from the second lesson and never returned to class. Six hours later, when classes ended, janitor found Miss Hebert in the back room where the inventory was kept. She was half-dressed and there were obvious signs of sexual violence on her body. Also Miss Hebert was under a pile of biological waste. Judging by the data of criminal examination - various used tampons, garbage and so on. At the time of discovering, the girl's pulse was traced as filamentous. Paramedics were able to stabilize Miss Hebert's condition and deliver her to the Brockton Central. There has already been an examination. According to the results, it turned out that Miss Hebert recorded multiple genital ruptures, severe brain concussions, irreparable damage to the left eyeball, three fractured ribs, as well as multiple infectious diseases as a result of which she fell into a coma from which she did not leave until today.

"Why didn't she get an appointment with Panacea and what the hell were she doing in the hospice?" - Miss Militia voice was heard from the intercom.

The officer nodded.

\- Actually an interesting question. As I understood, after the incident, Denny Hebert raised all his connections and cleared out all bank accounts in full to pay for his daughter's treatment and simultaneously sued Winslow. But it did not work. We managed to find out a little, but apparently they were actively trying to hush up the case. But who - we do not know. The school's lawyer was Mr Alan Barnes.

\- Isn't that Barnes who achieved a probationary period for Shadow Stalker six months ago? - clarified Piggot. In her mindscape this whole situation right now turned to a _very_ foul-smelling one.

\- Yes. It's him. He works in a law firm that is headed by Brandish - the officer nodded and waited for the Director's resolution, continued, - Mr. Hebert did not find enough money for a lawyer, because the lion's share was spent on the maintenance of his daughter, and therefore he had to defend his honor himself. But since the case was clearly not in favor of Winslow, he won, and Winslow undertook to pay for the treatment of Miss Hebert. And everything would be fine if Mr. Hebert did not file a lawsuit a second time, against Mr. Barnes, accusing him of allowing his daughter to mock Miss Hebert.

"Can't say that was the the smartest step ..." commented one of the Protectorate workers present, but remained unrecognized.

\- Forced to agree. This case Mr. Hebert lost, and then received a counterclaim for defamation, which Mr. Barnes immediately won, suing himself a good compensation. As you already understood, the financial condition of Heberts at that moment was far from ideal ...

"And as a result of all this, a heart attack happened ..." Piggot finished gloomily.

\- Yes ma'am. Since Mr. Hebert did not leave a will, and Heberts didn't have any living relatives, a leapfrog began with juvenile responsibility and guardianship, aggravated by paperwork, during which Miss Hebert showed no signs of recovery, so somebody decided for her to be transferred to Saint Brute's Hospice to maintain life support. Where she stayed until today ...

\- .. Where she woken up. Without a family, with memories of a trigger, about the circumstances of which I don't even want to think, and without any particular hope of recovery, do I understand everything correctly? - having waited for a nod, Piggot continued, - gentlemen, I understand this whole situation. But in all this I am interested in two things. Why do I find out about past month events only today? Events which _took place_ in one of Wards schools? And how the hell is Alan Barnes is connected to all of this?

"Actually ..." the officer said.

\- Yes? Simmons, do you have anything to say? - Piggot turned back to the speaker.

"Ma'am ... our men visited the Hebert house. And they found something …"

\- Do not torment me, officer.

Simmons nodded and took from his briefcase a sealed evidence package, inside which lay a thick common notebook. He carefully handed the package to the Director.

"This was in the case of Hebert vs. Barnes as evidence of bullying."

She opened the package and removed the notebook to the light. Opening the notebook at an random location, the Director read the notes.

After ten seconds of reading, she froze. Then she reread the same fragment again.

All this time, her face turned paler and paler, acquiring a painfully white shade.

Finally, with trembling hands, she put the notebook on the table and looked around at those present.

\- Immediately put all Wards under the M/S protocol. Isolate them at least for a few hours from each other. Armsmaster, escort Shadow Stalker directly to me. And somebody, call Panacea for Hebert girl.

Already leaving the briefing room, Piggot muttered to self

"If only you could forgive us, girl."


	2. Ragnarøkkr 101

_Amy Dallon / Panacea_

Despite being rather young, Panacea managed to see such things that even white-haired veterans talk with trembling voice. She saw an Endbringer in his prime, and survived after that. Only for that she could be called a veteran cape.

Amy has been treating people for almost a year and a half, and during that time she had seen enough to consider herself to be a experienced doctor.

But this time was different. Everything was different.

It was a completely normal Saturday that Amy wanted to spend with her sister before it went completely wrong.

She was still in bed when overexcited Vicky crashed in her room. She forced Amy to dress up and escorted to the rest of the family who were already in their full gear. Twenty minutes later, whole New Wave team was standing on the roof of one of the office buildings, from where a great view of the St. Brutus hospice opened.

When they arrived the building was already cordoned off by Protectorate response teams, and the Wards in full force roamed around the perimeter.

As Brandish said during the flight to the rendezvous point, the alarm was raised after the hospital staff abruptly stopped responding to outer world. Repeated calls to reception and numerous attempts to call at least someone did not succeed and people were anxied. Some concerned civilian rushed to see a relative and found only corpses in the reception hall. After that, he immediately called the police. Arriving at the scene cops called PRT

As a result, the whole Wards team and most of the adult heroes are now gathered here.

The vivid imagination of Panacea easily painted a picture of the event, which made her feel very uncomfortable. The young heroine firmly associated herself with hospitals.

Waiting dragged on. The first half hour passed in the painfully tense waiting for reports from the heroes who were inside. There was even more fear in the loud, inhuman sounds which were caught by the microphones even outside the building.

Then Velocity and Assault managed to find the cause. Amy stayed away from the content of the negotiations, since she did not have direct access to Protectorate frequencies,only adult members were able to maintain that access permanently, but fo Vicky and her - they were given access only in cases of joint operations.

As it became clear from the sharp remarks of Brandish, the heroes of the Protectorate needed Amy's help in order to somehow solve the problem with the parahuman who arranged all this situation. But her mother categorically refused to let her go inside until she had full guarantees of her, Panacea, security.

Amy had to stay on the roof for almost two hours before guarantees were received and certified by a personal request from Director Piggot. Then Brandish gritting her teeth agreed.

Panacea was walking along the empty corridors of the hospice, accompanied by an investigator from PRT and her insides were slowly freezing from the sticky feeling of the utter lifelessness filled this place.

Silence.

Thick, oppressive eerie and impossible silence owned this place. Only rare voices of PRT members were heard in those now empty corridors.  
Plants. It was the first thing that caught her pots were now filled only with dust mixed with gray earth. It looked like every plant here have rotten into nothing.  
And bodies. Wrapped in black cellophane, they lay in straight rows in the main hall. Forty-eight bags. Forty eight people. Forty-eight new graves.

And they want her to heal the one who did it?

She tried to pull herself together, to recall the Hippocratic Oath and that oath that she gave to herself. Panacea was not holy, she only followed the rules. But after all, every rule has an exception?

Finally they reached the chamber. Nothing remarkable, except that she was in the wing for patients on life support. Approaching the ward, Panacea nodded slightly to the guardians which were Assault and Velocity, who also nodded grimly at her, letting the girl inside.

... And all the words and thoughts that swelled in the head of Panacea instantly disappeared, dissolving inside a much stronger feeling that flooded the mind. All her nature was filled by it in a single moment.

 _ **Horror.**_

A creature soaring under the ceiling was the embodiment of something antagonistic to her. Unnatural. Something that by a mere existence denied the concept of life.

Her power, the one that could easily tell her how many cells rot in a human body at that very second, seemed to stop before being hung up in the endless loop which consisted from two words: " _Not life_ "

She froze as if she were rooted to the spot and would have stood in this stupor if the hand of Miss Militia, which was also inside the chamber, did not lay on her shoulder.

"Believe me, we also had this kind of reaction with the Armsmaster. This Projection ... whatever it is - is a rather horrifying thing" - an experienced heroine told her.

"B-but you? How are you not afraid?" - Panacea asked in a trembling voice, looking at the serious and collected, but not giving and a hint of fear, woman.

Miss Militia raised head and met eyes with Panacea. Panacea trembled. Her eyes were completely lifeless. No fear, no joy, no emotion, nothing.  
"Believe, Fear of death was the thing which I had to learn to live with."

Panacea recoiled from the woman, then squeezed her hands into fists and shook her head decisively, chasing away the obsession. The fear has not gone away - just like nowhere has the creature that now soars under the ceiling has not disappeared, stretching out its inhumanly long hands towards the bed on which her patient apparently rested. With both hands, it touched the head of an unknown girl, barely touching her with the tips of his fingers dressed in white gloves.

After taking three steps, Amy found herself by the bed of the patient and taking a deep breath, touched her arm. Second - and knowledge filled her head. Knowledge that immediately astonished her.

"She is still alive ..." the heroine gasped in shock, widened eyes looking at the medical miracle that now lay before her.

"What do you mean?" - Miss Militia came to her voice.

"Multiple infectious diseases in terminal stages, hepatitis of all three groups, not functioning lung, liver, which theoretically must already be dead, destructed kidneys, numerous blood clots, missing eyeball, damage to the spinal cord. This is only part of a very long list of reasons why she must be dead by now. And she's just in coma."

"Then why is she still alive?"

"It seems to me ... this _thing_ " - with her free hand she showed at the projection floating in the air, - "somehow it keeps her alive. Her heart beats, blood runs through the arteries, and the cells divide, while leaving the telomeres safe and sound. And in terms of biology - this is impossible."

" Powers are bullshit " Militia said thoughtfully, looking at the projection soaring in the air, and continued after a few seconds, "can you help her?"

Panacea thought for a while before asking:

"What happened to her?"

Miss Militia hesitated for a moment before answering.

"This is confidential information, so I'll get by general information. It was a trigger. And very unflattering one."

Amy nodded.

"I think I understand. As for help ... my power is not working out of nothing, you know, at least in its normal state. So if she were in standard conditions, even I would be powerless here. Too much damage, too many injuries. But while this, "- the girl again showed at the projection, "keeps her alive, I think I can at least stabilize her, removing most of the deadly factors. It will take time, but I have to cope. But on complete recovery? No less than a month. And this is the best prediction that I can give by now."

"Clear. Get down to it" - the Militia nodded, tossing the Ka-Bar created by her power into the air.

"It will take time," Amy warned again, before she sat down in the chair next to the bed and began the treatment.

She had to remove thirty-seven different fatal diagnosis,

 _Sophia Hess/Shadow Stalker_

The fact that something went wrong was understood by Stalker at the very moment when they were all alarmed at eight o'clock on Saturday morning and taken to St. Brutus. Not that this place was somehow noteworthy and interesting for her, yet it was located in the zone of responsibility of New Wave, and there were practically no criminals, and even more so members of gangs, therefore she was not interested in the hunting grounds.

But like any decent predator, Hess had an animal instinct for danger. And this very instinct made her blood run cold, warning of danger. Sophia trusted her instincts.

But she could not understand where and what danger could threaten her. Hess was a Hunter and knew how to cover her tracks. And in her humble glance, she did it skillfully. What was even more stranger she had a feeling that she knew from whom danger would emanate. But the thought, like a nimble rabbit all the time slipped from her head, as she tried to grab it by tail.

Patrolling the grounds were extremely boring. Wards wandered around the perimeter of the building, strictly forbidden to go inside, trying to prevent possible penetrations. The remaining heroes examined the building from the inside.

Usually, the Wards served as some kind of entertainment for her. It seemed to her extremely funny to treat these lambs in wolfskins, provoking them to reactions and actions that amused Sofia to some degree. But today, Wards were even duller than usual. Vista didn't even try to respond to her caustic comments about how she compensated for her height with space manipulations, and Kid Win didn't react to her words about the uselessness of his unknown specialization. Hess loved to play on the verge of a foul, but apparently the action taking place inside the building completely killed a spark of fun inside these kids.

Hess straightened crossbows on her belt. She still could not get used to the PRT-made crafts, which were so very different from her previous toys. However, they differed for the better, but Hess was not so stupid as to not understand the number of "surprises" intended primarily for herself, which were inside these tools.

Three and a half hours spent on her feet made Hess forget about morning runnning exercise.. As if she was not infuriated by the need to be in the "club" in order to hide her heroic activities while studying in Winslow, Hess did not like to laze with workouts.

Winslow. At that very moment, Sofia smirked under the mask. This school was one of the most successful decisions in her life. Place where she really could be what she deserved to be. Dangerous predator, the queen of the stone jungle.

The school too valued the preferences that the city gave to institutions where current members of the Wards were schooled in order not to obey the rules that she established. No, no blackmailing or something like that. She just did whatever she wanted, staying within the limits of propriety ... for the most part, and the school ... pretended that everything was going as it ought to be. No more, no less.

However, sometimes Sophia could not restrain herself and allowed herself a little more than usual. Like in the situation with Hebert girl.

Oh yes, _Hebert_.

If an ideal predator existed in her personal world, represented by herself, then Hebert was an ideal victim. Meek, silent, emotional, weak. As if she was specially created so that others could take the upper hand over her.

She had absolutely everything to turn Hebert's life into hell, thereby satisfying her thirst for playing with prey. She knew everything about poor Taylor, thanks to her faithful snake Emma. Hess really liked to watch when Barnes strike Hebert into the most painful points with surgical precision, thrusting a poisoned dagger in her back.

The beauty of betrayal. This is what Stalker admired in Emma. She could not stop being surprised by that endless malice and gloating that Emma could generate when it comes to Hebert.

Madison was also in her "pride"... but she was only a secondary element,which if necessary, could be... replaceable. But yes, Clements was ... interesting. And if Barnes were a snake, beautiful in her treacherous deadliness, then Madison was a chameleon. Changing the color, merging with the environment, this girl was able to pick up and strike at the moment of maximum weakness, often falling at a critical point.

Hess, Barns, Clements.

Ebert called them "Trio". When she thought that no one hears her. One of the few statements in which Sophia agreed with this girl.

They drove Hebert into a corner, in the sweet anticipation of the moment when she would fight back to break her completely. Like animals circling over a dying muskrat.

And yet, when the muskrat began to fight back, they were not ready. However, everything went completely wrong from mere beginning

Strictly speaking, it was Clements idea, once again surprising Sophia with Madison's perverse ingenuity. Idea to shove Hebert into her own locker was quite old straght from the good 1950's. But fill her locker with carefully collected biological waste and then lock Hebert in there... that was really something new.

Something... if Sophia could have described the idea with the taste, it would be something sweet, with a slight bitterness.

But the plans remained plans. Reality... reality turned out to be much more arousing. Making her blood boil fro mere memory of that day.

For the best effect, they decided that it would be worthwhile to quiet down for a short while, to lie low, to hit Hebert at the moment when she would be completely relaxed. They all agreed with this plan.

But the prey was too alluring.

Emma could not resist and decided to bite off a piece of wounded flesh that was Hebert's fortitude. She somewhere dug up old photos of Hebert's mother, where she was dressed in the colors of Lustrum's followers, when she was still at large.

Strike turned out unexpectedly strong. Hebert had a natural hysteria and then she made an unforgivable mistake - the victim attacked the hunter. Barnes was never very sporty, and therefore she cannot seriously withstand Hebert's attack. Nothing too serious, more catfight, than an actual fight, but bruises and abrasions, as well as the general spoiled look, touched Barnes hard enough to teach Hebert a lesson once and for all. Seeing those bright eyes that Barnes was looking at her, Sophia simply could not resist.

Madison asked one of her many girl friends to fill Hebert's place with sticky, spoiled juice. When she went to the toilet, they began to act.

The original plan was to stun Hebert, beat her couple of times, before throwing her into the closet for a couple of hours, but in the process of execution, idea captured them srtongly that they expected. At some time Emma spotted some household items which later were misused. Or maybe not. In the eyes of Sophia Hebert was not much better than garbage. Yes, Hebert girl was already unconscious when they got to the most delicious part, but ...

Memories of Hebert's lifeless and indifferent to reality look will warm her soul for a long time. It was like an orgasm. Someone else's blood was once again on her hands, adrenaline from the realization that she was doing all of this under the nose of the PRT, a feeling of belonging. All this is in earnest agitated her blood.

Later, when it turned out that Hebert had fallen into a coma, Hess belatedly felt fear that the PRT could launch an investigation, but quickly calmed down and began to act. Forcing Barnes' father to defend school in court was easier than before, and when Hebert Sr. sued Emma, Stalker could not believe her luck at all. Everything worked out, Hebert disappeared, defeated and crushed, leaving real predators to feast on the bones.

This pleasant stream of memories, which Stalker indulged in the last few tens of minutes, was interrupted by the voice of the Armsmaster in the earpiece.

 _\- All Wards - immediately return at the HQ. The cry of this creature may have something in common with that of Simurgh. We must be sure that it won't affect you. On arriving follow the M/S protocol instructions_  
Sophia gasped displeasure. The protocols were pain in the ass. Now she had to spend half a day in a cramped room under supervision, proving to everyone that no cape or power has affected her. Truly hemorrhoids.

The earpiece in the ear of the Stalker came to life once more, having pre-whined before that, showing that the transmission was only for her.

 _\- Hess, on returning proceed straightly to me and then we go in a straight line to the Director._

A chill swept over Stalker's back. The sense of danger has intensified many times.

"May I know the reason, sir?"

 _"This is related to Miss Hebert case. She was you schoolmate."_

The world around Hess froze.

She literally saw in reality how it would seem that separate events stand in one line, forming into the current situation.

Hebert _were_ in a coma.

is a hospice.

Hebert _could_ be here.

Hebert _was_ here.

Hebert _could_ trigger.

Hebert _actually triggered_

PRT identified her. Found a case. Raised archives. They found out about Barnes.  
Almost torn thread turned into a steel line that pulls the whole truth to the surface. And if it really comes up ...

 _She can not return_

She understood it clearly. Crystal clear. There was no plan, no strategy, just instinct. An instinct that even the most powerful of predators must sometimes follow.

 _Run_

 _An hour after Shadow Stalker escape_

Consciousness returned to her as abruptly as it had disappeared. The pain that had so slowly killed her was asleep.  
When she opened her eyes, she faced a triangular, grinning skull, which seemed to opened in a silent scream.

She should have been frightened.

But there was no fear.

Just ... _recognition_?

 _Warmness._

 _Adoption_

 **[Persona]**

He took away his hands, before touching her temples and shook with his pale-white skull, making a strange sound like a gurgling. But for some reason she knew that he was glad that she was awake.  
"Miss Hebert, since you have come to your senses, could you remove your ... Projection?"


	3. Ragnarøkkr 102

"Miss Hebert, since you have come to your senses, could you remove your ... Projection?" - a voice from somewhere beyond her line of sight made Taylor twitch.

She was agonizing in pain, and her limbs barely moved. It was almost impossible to her head. But almost immediately the headboard of her bed began to rise, giving her better viewing point. At the same time, she felt that the tubes in her throat removed so she could speak again. Or maybe try to speak

In addition to **[Persona]** there were two more. First was a woman dressed in some kind of military uniform — high army boots, pants and jacket. American flag wrapped around the waist, same pattern balaclava, covering the lower half of the woman's face.

It took Taylor about half a second to identify Miss Militia, Brocton Bay Protectorate Member..

Heroes? Here? In her room?

But then... they knew her identity! They saw her! Were looking at her right now!

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. «Winslow.» Trigger._

Everything inside Taylor seemed to freeze. Thoughts, emotions, air in her lung seemed frozen into the solid state

She felt safe with him here.

They wanted him gone?

Make him leave?

Leave her alone. No protection?

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. «Winslow.» Trigg..._

"No!" she barely managed to croak, marveling at the weakness of her voice.

She wanted her voice to be as loud as it was... the last time she saw the doctor. And he... whatever he was, he reacted, opening his terrible wings even wider and uttering a cry that sounded to her as a lullaby.

She… wanted to feel protected.

But the reaction to her words was immediate. Some kind of taser appeared in the hands of Miss Milita. Something similar to those things that Taylor saw in the stores on the Broadwalk when she still was trying to find some kind of protection from...

 _Madison. Sofia. Emma. «Winslow.»_

They want…

"Calm down... please", — came from her right.

Overcoming the infernal pain in her muscles, Taylor managed to turn her head enough to see the second visitor sitting in her blind spot. Her body covered by a spacious white hoodie with red medical crosses and schematic symbols of paramedics. A red scarf tied around her neck, covering the lower part of her face, the upper part was hidden by a deep hood. Sitting next to the couch, she was holding her hand

Taylor felt as if some spring inside her relaxed for a moment, and the panic attack receded, leaving a nagging feeling of irrational fear…

But looking at Miss Militia, looking at the weapons in her hands, Taylor realized that she needed to act.

"I... h-okay. B-but why? He... he makes me feel good."

There was a gloomy silence, interrupted by a rare knock of coffins levitating in the air on the ceiling. Militia raised eyebrow, showing a mere degree of surprise at her words. And the gloomily observed:

"For you - maybe, but the others are... a little uncomfortable. In addition, in order to continue treatment, we will need to move you to another hospital. And with your... projection, that would be... somewhat problematic".

That... seemed logical? Taylor heard Ms Militia words and at the same time did not want to hear them. Some part of her, some important part, denied the idea of being without _[Persona]_ to protect her.

 ** _"Be calm, Daughter of Eve. Let Thanatos go. In a moment of danger... he will come again."_**

Again her insides were frozen. But this time it was different. A voice in her head. Not the voice she didn't understand, not the voice that was woven from the howling of the icy winds and the wailing of thousands of souls.

No. That voice... It was enchanting. Ideal. Every word she heard was like the most beautiful music you hear in the distance and try to remember, but the melody eludes you, leaving you wanting to hear it again. Symphonic utopia, Audio Catharsis - no word would be enough to merely attempt to describe what she was hearing inside her head right now.

 ** _Flattery is not the worst of sins, but you have only confirmed the obvious, Daughter of Eve._**

"What... Who are you?!"— she tried to shout mentally — "And maybe I really am crazy".

 ** _No more than the rest of the world, his child. No more. As for who I am — All in due time. Until then, let Thanatos leave your side, it is unnecessary to irritate those... Remnants more than they already are._**

She... she felt truth in those words. Yes, heroes looked at her, expecting something. He... that Voice, he was telling the truth. But... Why she feel so scared? Why does she think she should let Tan... That's his name? Thanatos?

She peered into the grinning skull of his. Somehow she knew - there were no face under that mask. Only Nonexictence gathered in material form.

...that if she let him go, this nightmare will begin anew...

 _Madison. Sofia…_

 ** _Do not be Afraid, Daughter of Eve. If these... Remnants betray thou so soon, so Mote It Be. And I Will Come, The Star of Dawn._**

Something... those words were significant. Something... something. It was as if a mere piece of presence that very ancient had leaked through the keyhole.

"I... H-okay" — she croaked the words before focusing on the... **[Gate]** mechanism. That was the best description she could give. Like... Like she's the gate. A gateway beyond real world and somewhere. Or someone. And now, concentrating, she could feel the remote control. She was so lame in describing that kind of things.

With the last whistle, Thanatos disappeared in a motes of blue light, as if shattered, and Taylor felt as if some part of her had returned to its place. And simultaneously with this event her headache, that was tearing her skull from within, virtually disappeared, leaving only fatigue.

Together with the disappearance of [Persona] heroes visibly relaxed. Weapon in miss Milita hands immediately disappeared.

But it was only thing that Taylor saw before she felt that her eyelids poured lead, and the mind started to float away, plunging her into the Kingdom of Morpheus.

The last thing she heard was miss Militia's voice.:

"Panacea, what are you..." — but she was asleep before she heard the ending.

 _ **Sleep well, child. My presence is enough to make some debts pay themselves…**_

 _Miss Militia_

Watching the cause of mass deaths and the main headache of the day immediately fall asleep after Recalling her projection, Hannah was displeased.

"Why did you put her down?" she looked at Panacea sitting next to Hebert.

"Did you see how scared she was when asked to remove her projection?" Dallon girl asked.

Miss Militia nodded.

"She's probably influenced by her own projection powers, whatever they are, but what's the point?"

Panacea turned her head, releasing the patient's hand.

"I don't know how to treat, fix and read minds, but the emotional state is another story. Emotions to me is like a slightly sodden newspaper. I could be wrong in the letters, but the essence will always be correct" There was a bit of pride in her voice. "So, after a request to withdraw her projection she panicked. I don't know who or what she was afraid of, but I had to synthesize a massive dose of sedative right into her bloodstream to calm her down and not order... whatever it was to attack. That's why I decided to put her to sleep, in her waking state she's... unsafe, in my opinion."

Hannah nodded, agreeing with the reasonable conclusions and fears of the Panacea. In her opinion it would be good to at least try to fish some information from Hebert about this whole incident, but the actions of Dallon girl fully fit within the PRT protocols.

"Alright. Thank you for your help, Panacea. You may leave. I think in the next few days, PRT will send Brandish a request for your presence in Hebert's treatment."

When Panacea said goodbye and went out, Hannah touched his ear, activating the radio.

"Militia to PRT. Projection perished, Mortician is stabilized by the Panacea and ready for transportation."

A moment later, the radio came alive with an answer

"PRT to Militia. Understood, transport on your way."

 _Protectorate tower. Director's office._

Emily already managed three times regret her words about the day, which cannot become even worse.

First time — when she learned about the source of extinction in the "St. Brutus".

Second time — when she learned the circumstances of what exactly was Taylor Hebert trigger event.

And the third time — when she learned that the member of the Wards was somehow responsible for it.

And now she regretted her words for the fourth time.

"So, Armsmaster. Am I correct in thinking that after you announced the M-S protocol — you told Hess that I wanted her to come to you, and then you gave her the reason for the meeting, along with the disclosure of information about Cape's civilian identity?"

Armored man didn't move. Thanks to the visor, Piggot could not discern his facial expression. However, this was not needed. She knew her subordinate very well.

"Ma'am, I'm not…"

But Piggott interrupted him.

"Shut up. Colin, it's not my first year at PRT, and yours also. That's my fault I didn't say that Hess could be the cause of Hebert's trigger. But did I have to say that when the entire protectorate Department was on the line? You couldn't put those two facts together? Damn it, Colin, couldn't you wait till the base?

Armored man once again was silent. However, she was one to blame. Piggot could not but admit that despite the Armsmaster remained one of the best Tinkers in the service of the Protectorate — sometimes he sorely lacked common sense.

Taking a deep breath, Piggot continued.:

"And what do we have now? Hebert is a tickling PR bomb. The rhing is that we cannot simply assign KO or put her in a Birdcage without trial. Youth Guard and media will eat us alive. She's not a Canary, still a minor, but with a trigger like that... And now a runaway Hess. How do we explain that one of our Wards going AWOL? What happens if she goes rogue? — Piggott went on to say, already for the most part not paying attention to her standing in front of the Armsmaster, who was more like a piece of furniture. Leaning on it per day required output.

But in a moment the words ran out, and Emily was finally able to collect the brains in the bunch. Looking at Wallis, Emily, mentally damned that man in front of her. But damage control was necessary

"So. You've made a mess, you're the one who has to deal with it. You go to the Barnes' and do the search. All warrants will be in half an hour. I need ALL the evidence you can find. Next. Stalker, of course, will try lay low, but I doubt that she is so professional to hide everywhere. Analyze where and to whom she could go, you have data on her. I want every CCTV, every drone looking fo Shadow Stalker, Colin. We need to get her before anyone gets wind of what's going on here. I'm already accountable to Director Costa Brown for everything that happened today. You understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am" the Armsmaster said sullenly.

"You may be free" said Piggot.

As soon as he left the office, the Director picked up the phone and, finding the right number, pressed the call button. There was so much things that needed to be resolved.

AN: Well, it's alive. Praise the Frankenstein. My grammar is still horrible, punctuation nonexistent, and i really struggle to find someone who could edit this into proper form. But i'll try to get better


	4. Ragnarøkkr 103

_Armsmaster/Colin Wallis._

You can't be good at everything. You always have to sacrifice efficiency. This was a simple truth Colin had learned a long time ago. Some people were less corresponding for this rule, and some — more. And in his case, that rule treated him with all its effective cruelty.

The armored man was well aware that he was definitely a good Tinker. And that's not about alignment. One of the Hero's few disciples, one of the key members of the Protectorate... People could say a lot about him as a hero, but almost no one could say anything about him as a person. And Colin couldn't blame them for that.

He was well aware of how narrow his social interactions were, and how weak he was in what people called "empathy." He tried to compensate for these shortcomings through the use of his abilities — so there was his visor with a built-in lie detector and social ties analyzer. But even so, he was far from being a normal person. And he was quite willing to sacrifice the effectiveness of his "I" for the sake of his heroic role. But not always this efficiency came to his hand, and he could not but admit it. So it happened now.

His social behavior predicting software again showed its imperfection, not allowing him to draw the necessary conclusions. The Director did not mention what exactly was written in Hebert's diary, and Colin had jumped into the wrong conclusions. It was simple. Unpredictable calculation error leading to a decrease in efficiency to critical levels.

And now he needs to neutralize the cause of these disturbances, while the whole system is not rolled downhill, completely losing all efficiency. As quickly as possible

An outsider, if he knew in any form how his mind actually worked would be shocked beyond comprehension, but for the Tinker himself it was just a simple mental trick that allowed him to interact with reality and society on acceptable level — he only perceived that reality as tinkertech.

Suddenly, a light chime sounded from costume inner dynamics. Incoming call request. Glancing at the caller ID, he immediately accepted the call.

"Dragon, you were given direct access to my communication systems. Why don't you use this?"

 _"My father always taught me to knock before I came in. Just some good manners. Hi, Colin"._

"Hello... Dragon" - Canadian Tinker, a mysterious girl with agoraphobia, was probably the only person who in Armsmaster's opinion approached the meaning of the word "friend."

Their communication was... productive. The dragon willingly helped Colin in his overall tinkering, also they work together to develop some projects that could help not only "Guild" and the Protectorate, but generally around the world. Therefore, in her presence, if you could call "presence" an audiovisual two-way communication channel, he allowed himself to be a little more... ineffective, if they were not busy with any urgent work. That, however, happened rarely.

 _"I... I heard what happened. I feel so sorry for these people... Colin, it's not your fault. Director admitted it herself"_

Colin shook his head.

"I was wrong."

 _"We're all wrong, Colin. All of us. But we all have to learn from our mistakes"_

There was a brief silence as the Armsmaster headed toward his workshop. Before he went inside, he sighed to answer his partner... and friend.

"It's effective. Would you help me find the Shadow Stalker?"

 _"Sure, Colin. Getting access to security cameras all over the city right now. If she catches a glimpse of at least one — I will know."_

"Thanks, Dragon." and he was honest in his words. That was efficient

 _"That's what friends are for."_

He admitted, that sometimes even the most inefficient and affectionate things seemed... satisfying. 

Piers Polkiss was a very ordinary man. How ordinary can be a simple shopkeeper on the Empire 88 territory. He praised the gods for the fact that the Kaiser and his henchmen did not dig up his family tree further than to his grandparents, and therefore he could easily be a carrier of the eighth part of the Jewish blood while keeping his small but quite profitable business on gang territories. Of course, part of the income he had to give up to Empire, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make...

On its territory, the gang tried to maintain order and legality. Polkiss even witnessed a few skirmishes between the stray bandits and Empire patrols. The ending was predictable. This, however, did not stop petty crime like stealing. Deliverance of such crimes was tantamount to completely get rid of cockroaches is to get rid of you can, but sooner or later they will come back.

But in this exact moment, he was would be glad, if Keiser's men worked out with street punks, which, proud of its "association with Empire", that in common language meant "potential cannon fodder", were really getting on his nerves

They knew the rules, of course. Nothing more than a shoplifting and some really bad formulated treats (praise the gangman educational level). But that was

Today these punks cornered again. A group of skinheads with tattoos of varying degrees of nationalism dropped into his shop with the appearance of kings inspecting the plebs. And it would be another ordinary day if these gentlemen didn't insolently abduct two crates of beer!

There was nothing he could do. Police reacted very inertly to calls from "gangster" areas, and there was no solid evidence on skinheads because he didn't have any CCTV.

Sitting in his flat and groggily surfing the web, mostly through the CCTV catalog he felt mostly fatigued. Another shoplift. Another loss.

But something changed

Suddenly, Mr. Polkiss felt a sudden surge of determination. In the end, the police and Empire will not be able not to respond if he will be able to provide the evidence?

With these thoughts, Mr. Polkiss Pressed the "add to cart" button, and the brand new security camera with good color correction and a night filter began its journey from the warehouse to its new owner…

 _Thomas Calvert/Coil._

Reading the official release, he compared it with the same one, but provided by his mole within the PRT and designed for internal use. Not to say that the information was very different, but the conclusions could be very, very interesting.

Trigger event by existence was not out of the ordinary, especially here in Brockton Bay, where the population of the capes in proportion to the total number of inhabitants surpassed many other cities in America. But such powerful trigger, high body count, unusual, if not unique powers... That was interesting. And terrifying of course.

Even Nilbog, may he rot in hell, during his trigger wasn't as deadly as the Undertaker girl. Coil was to some extent grateful for the fact that the Undertakers projection stopped before it can go outside the hospice. Calvert had enough unpleasant memories of the ghost towns to make him not want to repeat the situation in a place that he rightfully considered by an object of his interests.

And there was the only Birdcage with the backdated trial, but Coil was able to read between the lines. Usually, PRT was very quick in anything that can be related to PR. But there was no press release, no inside leaks, nothing. PRT tightened its informational security to the maximum. Even internal reports were poor on the information. Coil tracked hospice records, glanced through the patient lists. Did some background check… and somehow it all made sense. There was a really short list of things that could really get PRT bothered. And their Wards program was one of those. And there was only one Ward with such problem-generating potential...

At the moment, Coil was trying to assess the potential benefits of certain moves. With one hand he could try to recruit Shadow Stalker into the Undersiders, however, he doubted in expediency such a course. Stalker and Undersiders already have a story and not a good one.

On the other hand, he could take Stalker into the category of... more specific assets. With her psychological portrait and worldview… well, she had the potential. The right training, some psychological manipulations - and he would get a very good assassin for himself. Not on her level of course, but it would be something worth.

On the third hand, both recruitment options were very unprofitable for the simple reason that the Stalker was already known as Cape and her abilities were all but exposed to the public. Furthermore, PRT also had her civilian identity. There were rules about it, yes. But he knew how less these rules applied when they were talking about PR and PRT.

There was a second option, quite logically derived from the first. Recruit The Undertaker. New, obviously powerful Cape, high-level Master with very impressive Projection, she would be a great addition to Undersiders, given some similarities to the family circumstances of other team members. But even without his abilities, he's seen quite a number of obstacles. Starting with the fact that PRT again knew Undertaker's identity, and ending with the fact that the girl's physical condition was far from any norm, and if in the situation with Noel, her physical condition was in his hands, in the case of the Undertaker, the picture was the opposite.

Of course, there was a fourth option — to do nothing, letting the whole situation take its course. But the potential for lost profits, which he saw in all this situation, made him stubbornly deny his own idle impulses.

But before he will begin to act, he needs to ensure that the effort invested will not go in vain. To calculate all the outcomes he can not, but to make two elections the most right — on, that he knew how.

Comfortably seated in his chair, Calvert set both directions for the development of realities and prepared to observe the outcomes.

 _Split_

 ** _E*^ &R^*&R↕→ O0R_**

That... was something new. Coil knew the limitations of his power, which did not work, being aimed at the Endbringers and some... personalities, of which he would prefer not to think more necessary. But all these characters dropped out for his definition of "normal capes", with which his power did not give failures. Until this moment.

Coil tried again

 _Split_

 ** _E*^ &R^*&R↕→ O0R_**

After that, he felt numbing pain starting to develop somewhere in his head. That was definitely something completely new. Thinker headaches. He had never experienced those. Maybe it wasn't Thinker one but it's clearly something similar to the occasion.

To confirm his thoughts he tried one last time

 _Split_

 ** _E*^ &R^*&R↕→ O0R_**

Thus the fact was cemented. The power of the Coil, his power, suddenly stopped working. And something, or more likely, someone jammed his power completely. And to say that Thomas Calvert liked that outcome was a blatant lie.

Now he'll have to deal with that too. And if he understood the cause of the... jamming correctly, he might have to take advantage of the past... of some members of his personal supervillain team to effectively and quietly eliminate the threat.

But first, he needs to make some important calls

 _Location unknown._

An emergency meeting was called. At a small table in a spacious room with dim lighting, there are several people. Without masks, as everyone here knew the others too well.

If there were an outside observer here now, he would be amazed at the personalities of some of the people here, too well known even to the common man in the street. However, the appearance of an outsider here was definitely impossible.

And that was the reason. But nobody knew everything about them. As no one outside this relatively small, but ridiculously powerful group knew about this place.

"What happened?" a woman asked.

There was hardly a man who could call this woman unattractive. But the look in her eyes, cold and tired, could just as easily scare away ordinary people as her appearance easily attracted them.

"I would also be interested, why such urgency? " the second woman, also at the table, asked.

An ordinary woman, who could not be less than forty and not more than fifty. But, despite the usual clothes with a medical gown thrown over her shoulders and a complete lack of communication with some entities, this woman had every right to be at this table.

"Path has changed. It's shorter right now." This was the simple answer of the third woman sitting at the table. But these words stirred everyone else. They didn't expect to hear something like this.

"How much shorter?" there was a very quick response

"More than everything we encountered before" that was a quite enigmatic answer to that, but somehow that seemed legit to these people.

"What exactly happened? Where?"

"Variable. There was a factor of chance. Unlikely. But it occurred".

"Where was this variable?"

"Unknown. The Path stopped seeing her a few hours ago."

There was a tense silence. The news brought by the woman in the suit were overwhelming.

"Then what are we waiting for? We need to find this "variable" and understand what it is and how to work with it." — said the man in the green suit enthusiastically.

"Not the right time." was short, but the quick response of the woman in the suit. "The Path does not see the variable right now, but until then the first step was unambiguous."

"And what was it?" a woman in a medical gown asked.

"To wait".

 **AN: It's a chapter, yay! Well, I tried to download some English proofing software. Maybe it is better this time. Path has changed and the world is reacting to it.**


	5. Ragnarøkkr 104

_Emma Barnes, February 13, 2011._

Emma had always been proud of her intuition. Pulling feeling somewhere just below the back of the head more than once rescued her in difficult situations. For example, when she forgot to copy homework borrowed from Hebert, just before decided to suddenly check their essays. Something similar happened when Hebert tried to record their... entertainment on tape. She managed to hold Sophia and Madison back before they could ruin the whole game.

Yes. «Game». That was the closest definition of all the things Emma could think of to describe what was happening at Winslow.

Game. Simple and effective. Emma had learned the rules the summer before high school when the scumbags from the ABB surrounded her in an inconspicuous alley not far from home. Looking in their eyes, filled with lust, she realized the truth. The truth about this world.

There are no humans or animals. There is no division between the reasonable and the unreasonable. There are always predators and prey. Those who feast — and those on whose bones feast. And she sure as hell didn't want to be eaten. She saw it then, and, apparently, a reward for the discovery of that truth she was given a chance at rebirth. And she took the chance, willingly taking Sophia's outstretched hand.

But in order to be reborn finally, the sacrifice was necessary. The bridge linking her with the past that needed to be burned in order to cross this Rubicon. And she had such a bridge. Taylor Hebert was Emma's Appian way. Her first and oldest friend. And all the more valuable victim of she was.

Emma was scared at first. She wondered if it was worth it. She didn't know how strong the bond of friendship between her and Hebert was. She didn't like to feel pain. She was afraid of it. But there was none. Bullying Taylor did not bring her pain. Just... satisfaction. Looking at her tears, Emma realized that she was not a victim. That she's stronger and more dangerous.

And this feeling excited her. Gave strength and energy, filled her life with contrast, in a word, made her who she was the last year and a half.

That was until last month. That was before the accident. She was aware that they had... overdone it. Before that, she, Sophia and Madison had never crossed the line between their... victim and the Berserker state that the victims fell into when they were cornered. Emma had always felt close to that border, perhaps because she had been there herself. But that time she was wrong... And the mistake cost them their game.

Hebert snapped. The mother's theme was too deep a wound for Taylor. Deeper than Emma thought. Because the pain from her split lip and several bruises became too much for her abrupt change of the usual tone of life.

Everything that happened after... was veiled for her. No, she, if desired, could remember every second and every detail of what happened, but the overall picture, the thrill of all that had happened... All of it put together like puzzle pieces, soaked after rain, didn't want to get in the grooves.

She came to her senses after a week. One she just realized herself standing near the HHebert's locker and staring through it as if in anticipation of what Taylor's about to come out of a turn and allow Emma to continue so prolonged game.

But she didn't come back. Not in a week. Not even in two. And then Emma began to worry. Something inside her, some fragile plate that held her whole complacent state, slowly began to crack.

Her day, once full of bright colors and new images, energy spilling over the edge, suddenly became gray and dim. The world around her, singing and chirping, seemed to shrink to the size of a huge dim tunnel with light at the other end, which looms unattainable point. It was as if someone had removed the battery from her life that fed her existence.

And in this string of gray days that followed each other endlessly to Emma, drop by drop, came an understanding of what or who was to blame.

From her father, she knew what had happened to the HHeberts. After all, her brand-new smartphone and the outfit she had chosen meticulously for so long were part of it all. But she didn't go into details, satisfied with the basic facts.

But in the changed circumstances had changed and her desires. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to see what actually happened with Taylor, to see with her own eyes what was left of her. And she intended to do it.

The reality was completely different. Since yesterday morning, her intuition had been telling her that the danger was near, but Emma could not understand what was wrong.

Until she turned on the TV

The wide-angle screen showed the reporter standing in front of the building, surrounded by yellow tape. Adding sound, Barnes froze.

 _..."It is unknown what caused the tragedy, however, the PRT representatives tend to the version about the new Cape. As you can see, the scene is cordoned off and patrolled by the Wards, however, as we learned, investigation inside the building is still ongoing. At the moment, body count reached forty-eight, both among the staff and among the patients of the hospital. The fate of at least four others remains unknown. We will continue to conduct a live report from the scene and talk about new facts…»_

The television continued to speak, but Emma could no longer distinguish the words. All her consciousness at that moment concentrated on a single word.

 _Hebert_

Hebert was there, she knew it. Dad mentioned the difficulties with the guardianship and medical bills, which has led to the fact that she was in "Brutus". And now this. Something was wrong. She didn't know what, but she was sure Taylor had something to do with it.

The sucking feeling of growing anxiety, coupled with the already half-melancholy mood, resulted in a series of vivid nightmares in which Hebert rose from the dead, destroying everything dear to Emma in front of her eyes. Barnes lost count of how many times that night she woke up in a cold sweat with the feeling that everything that was happening was real.

And the more monstrous it became when ten minutes ago her brand new smartphone rang, identifying an unfamiliar phone book number. She hesitated for a few seconds before replying.

 _"PRT knows. They found out the whole story behind Hebert"_ the voice coming from the speakers could not belong to anyone but Hess.

"PRT? How did they? " almost shouted Emma, but Sophia interrupted her

 _"No time. Get rid of everything. Don't leave anything. If they ask — you know nothing! Understood?"_ Sophia said threateningly.

"O...Ok, but what will you do?"

 _"I'll find you if I have to."_ Call ended abruptly, leaving Emma in utter confusion.

But the girl was able to overcome it. She was well aware of exactly how dangerous the current situation were, and Sophia's imperative... was absolute to her. She rarely spoke to her in such a tone. And when she did, Emma listened.

After receiving instructions, Barnes gave herself a mental kick to accelerate and rushed upstairs to her room, where there was everything that could indicate her involvement with Hebert.

For a start, she ejected SDcard from her old phone which stored pictures and videos of some of their antics. Emma found it fun to revisit some selected moments while enjoying her own participation in this show. Then she extracted her diary, normally hidden under the bed, containing some notes that Barnes did not forget some important things related to Hebert, like her fears, traumatic memories or some embarrassing moments of her former friend. Both of these items had to be destroyed, but Barnes couldn't think of a quick way to do it. Burning those was one of the options, but there was fire alarm all around the house and burning things in the backyard would be too suspicious. So she turned on the computer, typed the password and opened the messenger. Here was her chat with Madison and Sophia where they were openly discussing their...intentions. That was the simplest evidence to destroy.

Selecting whole chat history, Emma almost clicked "delete", but the sound of the door opening made her instinctively freeze and turn toward the entrance.

There were two men in the doorway. Her father, now looking extremely preoccupied with something, and the man in the unmistakable PRT uniform, of about thirty in appearance, with thick, but a short beard.

"I'm afraid you'll have to stop, miss, whatever you're doing. We have a warrant to search your room," the officer said as three other PRT agents entered the room. "And you, along with your father, you need to come with us for questioning..."

At that very moment, something inside Emma collapsed.

How would you define the word "space"?

A multidimensional coordinate system with given laws, mechanics, and interactions?

An infinite area in which defined infinities collide, forming a finite set of axioms that determine reality?

The moment of energy, frozen on the eternal terminator line between the past and future?

None of those. And all of them at the same time. Observer's Paradox, Critical mass theory.

Being has never defined consciousness. Only consciousness determines being. For her, time and space were now like two magnitudes frozen at different poles of a magnet.

There were no coordinates, no usual metrics of four dimensions. There was everything and at the same time — the point of singularity, seeking to disappear into nothing.

Time for it as if frozen, went back, flew forward, rolled sideways and moved jumps at the same time, without influencing the events in any way.

She was _here_.

But what is "here"? Where is "here"? When "here"?

 ** _"And He said, let there be a firmament between the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. [And so it was.]"_**

Voice. A voice that came out of nowhere and was always there. A voice full of power and hidden power. A voice that seemed to proclaim the truth with every sound, imprinting it into being, recording it into reality.

 ** _"And it was said, Henceforth Thou Will Act As Voice Of Mine."_**

It wasn't just a line. Words proclaiming the truth of the past, announcing the present and affirming the future.

She was confused. Voices. More and more. She heard them, felt them. They were an endless cacophony, so loud that she could hear only silence. Illogical, wrong, different — they were all here.

 _Here._

She couldn't answer what "here" was. That it meant.

" ** _Those who signed [Contract] outside His reach. His Will. His Anger. His Mercy. His Trial. His Gates. His Guardian. His Key. His Cage."_**

She didn't. She couldn't understand. Wanted to understand. But the knowledge was too multidimensional and voluminous, did not want to shrink to simple measurements.

" ** _The mind of the intelligent seeks knowledge. And I Will Entrust this Gift."_**

Something touched her. And knowledge filled her. Without words and images. Only pure knowledge. If she could describe what she knew — she would only say that it was obvious. As if it were said that the straight is straight and the sun is shining.

But it was too overwhelming. The world around her. This place, "here" it shuddered. Infinity, which became a segment, and the beam, curled into a ring. The metric has changed, turned into another form, collapse row, rejecting her.

" ** _Now Go, His Child, that World Outside for You is Waiting. And if You Need Judgement, Call out My Name, And I Will Come, As His Herald."_**

A moment — and a sense of presence disappears, leaving it's in blissful oblivion. The sleep of the mind is an effective remedy.

 _AN: The new party has entered the game. What is your opinion? I hope my choice of words for this Persona isn't too odd._


	6. Ragnarøkkr 105

AN: Because the last chapter was brief, here's another one. For those concerned about Emma having Persona. She doesn't. It is my fault that i forgot to point out whose interlude was it. Already edited it.

The consciousness returned surprisingly. At one point in her mind, it was as if the light was turned on. After a long sensory deprivation, the five senses instantly returned overfilled her brain in pitiful milliseconds.

She was frightened to open her eyes, blinded for a second by the dimmed artificial light that illuminated her ward. Anyway, this place looked like a hospital ward.

The ceiling was as white and unfamiliar as it was _there_.

There... There!

Memories... She couldn't say how long it had been since she woke up for the last time, so what happened filled her head with anxious pictures.

Heroes... Heroes from the Protectorate were in her room when she woke up. But why? Why did they come to her?

She remembered the figure, the figure that was floating over her. The figure that seemed... familiar to her despite it's unnaturalness. She remembered the voice in her head. A figure, a voice... Did she became a cape?

But then... Then...

 _Emma. Sofia. Trigger. Father._

Horror filled her. Completely irrational and at the same time so real. The walls of the room seemed to shrink over her, threatening to crush her with its mass.

 _Cape._

She was a freaking cape. And heroes knew about it. For some reason, that was what scared her the most. She... She remembered that once she wanted to be a hero. She dreamed of flying in the sky like Alexandria, or of being as strong and versatile as Eidolon, tinkering like Armsmaster, but now... Now she was afraid. Heroes... Heroes, they can be like... Emma.

 _"No! They are heroes! Protectorate was created to help people to fight villains!"_ \- She tried to build some kind of protection against this fear by fencing it off with a wall of belief. And she was willing to swear on anything that when she said it, it was like someone's charming and light laughing laugh came to the very edge of her mind in the summer wind.

The body... body obeyed her. She suddenly realized it, freeing herself from panic. She carefully tried to tense her muscles - and they responded with pain - but she felt her hand move upwards. After repeating operation with her legs, Taylor was quite convinced that, despite the fact that she was still as good as walking to the moon to an "acceptable" state, but she felt much, much better than the last time. Besides... The eye. She felt her eye. It was still covered with a bandage, but she felt it. But then... Was she cured? Panacea healed her?

Why? Because she was a cape?

She didn't know the answer. And she didn't really want to know. But she kept thinking about it over and over. Taylor had the feeling that if she stopped for a second, she'd interrupted the chain of thought as something would happen to her. Something would happen. Something bad.

But Taylor's plans were interrupted by hissing of the opening door. Actually, the sound of hissing attracted Hebert's attention. With some effort, turning her head towards the entrance, she noticed that there was no real door but a steel plate. Now opening door revealed a silhouette in white garment coming in. Her still unfocused vision prevented her from concentrating on the entrance, but the red spots on the hoodie allowed her to speculate about the guest entering the room.

 _Panacea._

Heroine. Member of the New Wave. One of the most famous capes on the planet, best Cape Medic in existence. Brockton Bay Wonder. Honorary citizen and many other titles. Description straight from ParaWiki, where Taylor could hang for hours, studying all available information about the capes.

And now this girl was in front of her. A heroine, a celebrity, the hope of the entire globe, she embodied everything that Taylor were deprived of. Confession, family, friends, being in the company of other people...

 _Madison._

Taylor felt a wave of seizures running through her body.

 _Madison. Madison. Madison._

It was as if she'd seen Panacea dropping her hood under Clements' face. It... was so real that... that she almost believed it.

 _"No! Bullshit, nonsense! Panacea is not Emma! She is a hero!"_ The voice of her mind was trying to calm the rebellious heart and emotions that were now dominating her. But this voice was too quiet for this boiling mixture of fear and painful memories, and therefore remained unheard.

Meanwhile, the Cape Medic, noticing that the patient came to her senses, carefully, without making any sudden movements, approached Taylor from the side of her sighted eye and leaned over to get a better look at Ebert.

Taylor, however, was on the line between unconsciousness and catatonic horror, which seemed to paralyze every cell of her mortal body. White color and red crosses... Symbols of peace and help - they did not seem to her like such. For her, they were signs of danger. Danger and fear. That's how she perceived it, that's how she felt, even though the voice of her mind told her that it is stupid to be afraid of it.

"Miss Ebert, can you hear me?"- finally asked Panacea to finish her superficial analysis.

She couldn't do much without direct contact with the patient's skin, but her personal moral code didn't allow her to heal strangers without permission. However, Mr. Chambers said something like that when she first met him and discussed her heroic career. In any case, she was observant enough to notice most obvious things about her patients. Mortician... or whatever her cape alias were was once again in a pre-exposure state, so Panacea was somewhat unsure that she fully understood her condition.

"Y-yes..." Taylor squeezed out, spending a lot more energy than she might have thought. There was an incredible dryness in her throat and a state of panic, which she managed to crush for a moment with a titanic effort of will, so that it would triple back in the next moment.

Panacea let herself have a weak, invisible smile under her scarf. Everything was a little easier for her. She couldn't, she didn't want to work with her brain, and that's why she was all the more nervous about her not being aware of her patient's reality.

"Can I heal you?" She reached out and prepared to touch Hebert's hand. Of course, she had already had two sessions with her, the first at St. Brutus, and the second on arrival at Central Brockton, but both times the situation required her intervention to save her life. Now ... it was a matter of formality.

 _Healing._

 _Healing._

 _Healing._

It was as if these words had crashed into her skull, burnt on the bones of her skull box. Panacea offered her healing. Health, a normal life. Opportunities. But...

"I..."

...but inside her, it's like someone pulled an emergency brake. It was as if she'd stumbled upon an invisible wall that she couldn't get around. The words she wanted to say, the consent she were supposed to give, all of it... wiped, stopped by a force that Taylor had never felt before.

It was... She couldn't describe that feeling. It wasn't a barrier or a border. But... It was like... It was like... It was like... The association inside it was falling apart at an empty end.

"No... I'm sorry..." whispered to Taylor, feeling tears coming out of her eyes and shaking with fear.

Panacea's hand stopped a few millimetres away from her skin.

"What?" Panacea asked, hadn't fully grasped the meaning of what Taylor had just said.

"N-no... Don't touch me... Please..." the girl wheezed, snapping at the whispering.

"But what about... treatment?" Panacea tried to change her patients opinion.

"I... I can handle it. Please, don't touch me!"

Panacea looked at Hebert again. And she was amazed. In the girl's eyes she saw pure and clear horror and despair. And that fear was directed at her. More precisely, not her, but what she could have done. That she could have touched her, helped her. She had seen a lot of things, but that was the first time she had ever seen anything like it.

"Alright. I won't do anything" Panacea's voice was traitorous, but she managed to cope with herself. She slowly, so that Ebert could follow the movements of her hands, took them away from her and took a few steps back.

"I will warn the doctors to prepare a course of treatment... " Panacea did not have time to finish the sentence before she were interrupted by Hebert.

"No!" that's all Taylor was able to squeeze out of herself, afraid to meet... people.

Panacea... She was afraid of her. She could confess to herself. But she could control her fear. Not for long, but enough to create at least some appearance... of a normal conversation. But as soon as she heard about the fact that she would have to meet a lot of people, she protested inside. Something she didn't want to touch and disturb. Something painful.

"But then you won't get well..." Panacea decided to try to bring common sense to discussion.

To be _cured_.

To be _healed_.

 _Healing._

She needs to be healed.

And the **[Sea]** stirred up...

 ** _Child, Thou Wish For Healing?_**

A voice. She heard a voice again. But this time the voice she heard was different. It belonged to a woman. This Voice... It was as if he was enveloping her mind with warmth, just by his sounding like a mother's hug that closed on her mind. They closed to open up when the voice stopped sounding.

Taylor wanted to scream. This brief moment, these words - they seemed to give her something back for a second... long forgotten and lost. Something she wanted to feel again.

But the voice of her mind made her think of the words she had said in the Voice.

She didn't know if she was crazy or if she saw it. But the voice was quite obvious. She also felt... _Presence_.

It was as if someone behind the door had gently knocked on it, indicating a desire to enter.

Not a desire - an opportunity, an offer?

She wished for Healing. She wanted to get rid of the pain, make it disappear, evaporate, returning at least a part of it to her, the part that had not been lost on... that day.

Yes. She wished for Healing.

And that's why she **[Opened]** the door. And at that very moment, her lips were whispering almost silently:

 **"[Persona]"**

And the room flooded with bright light.

 ** _Daughter Firstborn of Geb Am I. Mother of the Sun, Ruler of Heaven._**

Panacea, blinded by a flash of light, shuddered by the first sounds of this voice. But she was not the only one who felt the power coming from these words. Even the operators behind the security cameras installed in the room were blinded. The golden light became a little less bright and began to form a figure in the middle of the room.

 ** _My tear shall drop and Nile will spill._**

It was still impossible to distinguish between the shapes and features of the face, but there was someone in the middle of the room. It was two meters tall.

Panacea found the strength to hold down the panic button, causing a rapid reaction squad in the next room.

 ** _The Bird Of Hath Am I._**

The detachment did not keep itself waiting. No sooner had Persona's words been heard than the room door opened again, giving precious seconds before a squad of operatives with foam sprayers and stunners had to break into the room.

 ** _So Know My Name..._**

The door opened completely, but Taylor, who was in a state between shock and stupor, looked at the way soldiers supposed to rush in without any involvement of her mind, froze as if they were enchanted, looking at the woman standing in the middle of the room. Loose white clothes with intricate patterns on the edging fell to the floor, framing a majestic figure, as if made of lively marble - her skin was so perfectly smooth. Behind her was a majestically spread pair of falconry wings, and on her anthracite black hair was a headdress in the form of bull's horns, between which was squeezed sun disk, radiating real sunlight.

 ** _Isis._**

The lights went out, but all the people present stayed in their places as if they were fascinated. Only Isis looked at Taylor with a half-smile on her lips, who was also looking at the... Goddess.

Otherwise, she couldn't name the one that was standing in front of her. Perfect. That was the only description Taylor could have picked up for her, and that was only the faintest of shadows that could cast away the beauty of this celestial woman.

The goddess moved away, paying no attention to the people around her, except Taylor herself. She even moved majestically, as if by every step she was asserting her right to bear her titles.

 ** _"You called me, poor child. And I responded. You were looking for healing, child..."_**

When Isis approached Taylor's bed, she leaned down gracefully and whispering something kissed the girl on her forehead.

At the very moment when the lips of the goddess touched her, Taylor felt like a wave of energy was rolling over her body, instantly flushing away pain and fatigue, filling her muscles with energy and strength.

Pain... just disappeared.

But the most important thing is that together with the kiss, everything... all those fears that were in her head now, devoured her from within - all of them instantly gone, leaving her mind crystal clear. She knew it wasn't forever, that they would come back, but she didn't want to think about it now.

She was just feeling goo...

At that very moment, her head exploded with pain. Unpleasant, pulsating. And this time, she knew what and who was the reason.

Taylor looked at Isis. She smiled gently at her before she leaned up and turned away, looking at the paralyzed PRT operatives.

 ** _There is no need to expose the blades, Defenders of Maat . Neither I nor this child wanted to hurt you._**

After that, she turned again to Taylor and Panacea, who were still standing by the bed, afraid to move.

 ** _I have to go. I am afraid that the Child is still not strong enough to call me in my full power. But before that..._**

Isis has shone again. But this time her light was not blinding or bright. It was as if she was caressing, giving strength and noting fatigue, making old scars overgrown and everyone's heart beating with new strength.

And it wasn't just Taylor who felt that way. Panacea, the PRT team, the entire west wing of Brockton Bay Central Hospital, and even a few random passers-by, they all felt the power of this light.

That was the power of the healing given by Isis.

And the next moment, the mother goddess smiled before vanishing. Without sound and added effects. Just disappeared. But Taylor felt that someone had gone through the **[Gate]** and returned... Whatever it was. But before that, Taylor had heard a quiet but very serious phrase:

 _ **Beware the First of Fallen. His deeds always lead to his benefits**_

And so she disappeared, leaving her, Taylor Hebert, alone with confused PRT strike squad and stunned Panacea. So it seemed to her, at least for a second, before the headache, avalanche-like amplified in pitiful moments, carried her mind in the arms of Morpheus.

Again.

Looking at his hand, where a minute ago there was a scar from the teeth of the neighbor's dog, Lieutenant Jenkins sadly said the phrase he hated now.

\- We need to report to the Center...

The disjointed humming of the voices was his answer.

They were all waiting for a fascinating epic with three days of quarantine under the M/S protocols


	7. Ragnarøkkr 106

_Emily Piggot._

Director Piggot was well aware that her attitude towards parahumans was too biased because of Ellisburg incident. On the other hand, cases like these once again proved that her fears were not unfounded.

However, knowing that she was right in no way diminished her headache or her understanding of the PR-collapse that the PRT could expect in the near future if she didn't figure out how to deal with what had happened.

Now she was sitting at the head of the round table, which, apart from her, included the entire roster of PRT capes, as well as all the specialists involved.

Piggot sipped off the water from the glass and carefully placed it on the table, as if doubting her movements. After that she started slowly:

"So, let's get this straight. After everything that happened at St. Brutus, did we move the Mortician directly to Brockton Bay Central Hospital?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Piggot rubbed her temple. She remembered very well that she had given the order herself, but did anyone here have the balls to tell her it was a bad idea?

"Okay. Then tell me for the love of God who came up with such a brilliant idea to put her in a ward in the main building? Not in the bunker under the hospital, not in a secure building specifically for the capes, but in a simple room, albeit with tightened security?"

This time, Miss Militia took the floor:

"Mortician's minor, ma'am. You know that. Youth Guard will eat us alive if they knew that we had put underage cape in a room prepared for someone like Hookwolf or Lung right after the trigger. In addition, we expected ward security be enough to hold her down in case of incidents. We do not know exactly how her powers work, so we applied standard measures to keep the Master with Projection-based powers. The operatives were equipped with darts with powerful sedatives; there was also an automatic sedative-loaded turret in the room in case her abilities were stronger than we thought..."

"Then why didn't any of this work out? Why did the girl manage to call the projection? - asked the director with the extreme dissatisfaction on her face.

"We don't know exactly why the automatics didn't work, but according to the reports, they experienced something similar to the aura that Glory Girl radiates. They just couldn't get themselves to raise a weapon against her."

"Fascinating. Like her trigger event wasn't enough, now she have multiple Projections. What do we know about them?"

Armsmaster stand up, pressed some buttons displaying various pictures on the main screen.

"At this point, we know about two projections. First one, Codename "Undertaker". We assume that he is the primary cause of … extinction. Height – eight point nine feet, disproportionate thin body with long arms. Dressed in some kind of unidentifiable military uniform. Behind his back are eight independent floating structures in the form of coffins of unknown metal with bas-reliefs similar to those depicted on the coffins of medieval knights. We estimate it as the Mover-3 because of its ability to fly..."

"Propose to raise it up to at least five, judging by how much he spent in this condition - the flight time is not limited." said Miss Militia, thereby breaking into the Armsmaster's monologue. Piggot nodded, agreeing with the reasonable suggestion of the subordinate. Tinker made amendments, and then continued:

"Also Shaker-6, at least. We do not know the mechanics and nature of the impact, but we assume that the projection was always near the conscript and influenced remotely. Master-2 for their ability to create a feeling of unnaturalness in some radius"

"I would also add Striker, Blaster and Brute ratings. At least three of them each. Striker for the fact that the Undertaker somehow kept Mortician alive for at least a few hours. Blaster for the screams that the projection makes from time to time. I don't know how strong and effective they are, but they clearly enhance that power for what we give him Master rating. Brute - just in case. We haven't had any combat situation with Undertaker, but this guy didn't look like someone who cares much about bullets," Miss Militia suggested based on her own interaction with Projection.

"Acceptable" nodded Piggot. Being paranoid about capes and their powers – that was the thing that helped to ensure that PRT agents will survive the encounter. She would even say that the ratings were understated, but even being paranoid, it was worth knowing the measure.

"What about the second one?"

"Things getting interesting here. Projection appeared at about quarter past two PM today, after Ms. Hebert refused to accept treatment offered by Panacea."

"How can you be afraid of a pretty girl like Panacea, I don't understand..." Assault grumbled.

"Perhaps Miss Hebert's mental trauma is more complicated than we thought from the beginning..." Yamada thoughtfully concluded by writing down something in her notebook.

The Armsmaster, meanwhile, continued:

"Then, for twenty-seven seconds, a flash of light from the projection blinded the cameras in the room. After that, Projection materialized completely," Armsmaster unfurled the image of Isis on the big screen. - She then said a few words, then approached Miss Ebert and healed her in bodily contact. Then, before she disappeared, she used some kind of Shaker ability, apparently mass healing." Tinker finished his quick report.

"Did we manage to record her voice?"

"Yes, we are. Here's the recording. But ma'am…" Armsmaster hesitated

"What do you want, Colin?" Emily sighed

"You may not like the aftereffects"

"Just push the damn "play" button, Colin."

Armsmaster pressed a few more buttons and recording started:

 ** _"Daughter Firstborn of Geb Am I. Mother of the Sun, Ruler of Heaven. My tear shall drop and Nile will spill. The Bird Of Hath Am I. So Know My Name... Isis. "_**

Even a mere recording of this voice made everyone in the room feel a herd of goosebumps running down the skin. Emily felt that something inside her had gone down, making her gut get cold.

"What… what the hell was _that_?"

"It's unknown, ma'am. Dragon and I scanned the recording multiple times without finding any foreign elements or the presence of an infra- or ultrasound. Regardless of the number of iterations of editing and copying this soundtrack – effect still remains..."

"Christ... So, now even tape recordings could receive Master rating?" - Battery has run out of steam.

"It seems so..." – Assault agreed with his companion

"Stop this. We'll take care of this later" - Piggot stopped unnecessary speculation. - Did I get it right that we are dealing with a sentient Projection?

Armsmaster nodded:

"Yes. Projection, "Isis", as she called herself, showed unusual sentience. Linked speech, independent behavior, communication skills, submotorics. She behaves more like a real person, not a Projection"

"Maybe Mortician assumed direct control?" asked Miss Militia.

"Excluded. Physiognomy shows that she was as surprised as we were."

"To sum up. Moritician could summon independent sentient Projections. That's something new." Velocity concluded grimly

"What about ratings?" - Piggot asked, internally trying to come up with the mildest and most streamlined language for the report to the Director of the Costa Braun.

"Master, like Glory Girl, but more powerful. Two or three. Striker-6 healed Mortician's wounds completely, bringing her back to the state she seemed to be in before the events at Winslow. Shaker-5 - healed people within a 60-meter radius. Probably Mover, assuming that her wings are fuctional.

The silence established, broken only by the rustle of the air-conditioning system. PRT staff considered the situation.

"Did I understood correctly that we are dealing practically with the second Panacea, only this Panacea knows how to heal en masse?" – Assault was clearly shocked.

"That's right." nodded Armsmaster. "But according to Panacea, Isis is not a biokinetic."

"What do you mean?"- This time, Miss Militia was clearly surprised.

"Panacea examined patients after Isis' treatment. She said that after Isis treatment patient's telomeres has not shortened, as well as the amount of fatty tissue or any other possible building materials in the body that still remained the same."

"Are you saying that… it cured people by actually creating a mass out of nothing?"

"According to Panacea, that's exactly what happened. And that's not all." Armsmaster added.

"Speak up." Piggot said. Right now, her head was killing her badly with the size of a total PRT fuck up titled "Taylor Hebert", but she was ready to hear out Armsmaster. She knew that she will do not like what she will hear, but she obliged to know everything about this girl before she would make any decisions.

"We believe that Isis is not Manton-limited" Armsmaster dropped the information bomb.

"What… do you mean by that" – Velocity asked in a dizzy, almost whispering voice. Manton's capes without restriction were rare, and most of them were either members of the Protectorate and allied heroic organizations, or had a Kill Order. Second option was very unlikeable

"Manton's effect suggests that the power of the capes in most cases works only for certain objects. Panacea can treat only living creatures. However, Dragon's analysis and Panacea's testimony suggests a complex effect on the organism in a large radius with almost the same effectiveness as when touched. Look at this." - The Armsmaster pressed several sensors and the image from the cameras increased, showing a small pot of wilted geranium standing on the windowsill. Then the Armsmaster pressed the rewind button, and everyone present could watch the dead plant blossom in a few seconds. After that was a clip, where a floor brush with a wooden handle suddenly putted down the roots and grew leaves.

"As you can see, the power of projection is not limited to people, but is rather directed at all organics."

"It's... Man, I've always known that the powers are bullshit, but what the hell..." - Velocity passed.

"Could we have this one at the next Endbringer fight? That could save a ton of lives! "

"I'm afraid you're all missing one important detail," Armsmaster said thoughtfully and with a little pressure. Waiting until he had the all attention, he continued. "That recording, that we heard. That's not everything. She said something else, before disappearing"

 ** _"I have to go. I am afraid that the Child is still not strong enough to call me in my full power. But before that..."_**

Isis's voice again gave everyone the creeps the creeps out of it, this time twice. For the first time, from the sound of the voice itself, and for the second time, from the meaning of her words.

Battery cursed dirty, but no one even thought to shake it. In his or her thoughts, everyone was in complete agreement with her definition of the situation. Even Piggot.

Emily felt that her recent headache seemed insignificant compared to what she was experiencing now. Although it may have been because of the realization in how deep shit PRT could be if even one corrupt journalistic soul knew at least part of what was going on.

"To sum up. Our potential PR ticking bomb named "Taylor Hebert" is capable of summoning multiple Projections, at least one of those has self-consciousness and healing abilities on a par or maybe even greater to Panacea, and has already demonstrated these abilities to the common people. We are dealing with a cape that ignores the Manton effect and God knows what else she can do, we only know that her projections could become stronger. And with all this splendor, we have a Shadow Stalker who has escaped and who may try to do something rash. Did I get this right?" - Looking at the uncertain nods of those present, Emily continued: "And now let's imagine that I am telling director of Costa Braun, who has expressed a personal interest in the St. Brutus incident all of these nonsense. How soon do you think everyone present here would be fired or relocated to Ancoridge?"

Looking at the pale and ingrained faces of her subordinates (even the capes shuddered markedly), Emily relaxed a bit. When you are not the only one whose head hurts, but also for your subordinates, it gives you some sense of satisfaction.

"As I understand it, none of us needs such problems. That is why you gentlemen have..." - Emily looked at the clock, "twenty-eight hours to solve the problem with Shadow Stalker. Do what you want, but do not let any journalist get a feel for it. Do you understand? "- Waiting for a restrained nod from the Armsmaster, who had already been busy with the problem, Piggot nodded back to him before contacting a staff psychologist of the PRT.

"Yamada, Hebert is your problem. I do not know how, but you have to make sure that the girl is ready to at least coöperate with Protectorate. The last thing we need is Panacea-like cape among the villains. Othala is already enough. Especially when the same cape has someone like Undertaker. In general, you have a full carte blanche. In ten hours Glenn Chambers will arrive here, he should help you and all of us to get out of everything that we all got into.

"Will do, ma'am," nodded Jessica, stirring something hard in her notebook.

"Then that's it for today, everyone's free. I hope you all realize how thin the ice we walk on is?

Silence was the best answer.

Having risen hard, Emily moved towards her office. It was almost midnight on the clock, but she had a job waiting for her. A lot of work.

AN: Here's another one. Hope you'll like it


	8. Ragnarøkkr 107

**AN: That chapter took a lot from me. Hope you'll find it interesting. And I am very grateful for correcting these mistakes of mine. Enjoy!**

 _Empire 88 territory._

Yu Chen never thought about the meaning of life. And not because he didn't want to.

Perhaps, if things were different, he would have been destined to become a writer or philosopher. But fate simply left him no choice. Kyushu refugee, who had decided to stay in Brockton Bay. From the very beginning, he was doomed to one fate. Perhaps he would have had a chance to get out of the vicious circle in which he was born, but he did not find enough willpower, money, and intelligence to enter university. That was the only way to have some perspectives in life. That's why he ended up among the Azn Bad Boys.

The work, if it could be called work, was monotonous and could be characterized by the phrase "Do as you're told" And Chen did. Not because he wanted to. There were many things that he particularly didn't like to do in his assignments. He did because of fear. And he had something to be afraid of.

Capes.

People who for some reason got superpowers and decided to use them according to their beliefs. For good... Or for evil. You didn't want to think about the realities of the behind-the-scenes world of capes, rightly believing that the farther he stayed away from them, the less trouble he would have in life. The ones he had now were quite enough for him. Lung and Oni Lee were leaders and at the same time the main scarecrow for the whole gang, for no one wanted to appear before Lung's eyes when he was in a bad mood. There were rumors that a few particularly unlucky gang members had half of their skin burned when Lung was very angry about something. And there was no reason not to believe in them. Oni Lee... They tried not to talk about him at all. And if they did, it was whispering behind closed doors. A sociopathic terrorist with a clear desire for pyromaniacs with suicide clone - teleporting ability, who only listened to Lung. He was a boogeyman for everyone. Even for ABB members.

Yu would never have willingly trespassed the Empire border, but he had no choice. Oni Lee needed a distraction, something to cover up his operation in the Docks, and it was decided to send some members to the Empire territory. Yu was unfortunate enough to be among them.

They needed to make a fuss, so each one of them had a gun. Yu didn't know a thing about shooting, but the theory was kind of simple.

But today luck was clearly not on Chen's side. They had been moving through the Empire territory for twenty minutes when their self-proclaimed commander started to give up his nerves. Li Wen had already held his hand in the pocket of a baggy jacket for a couple of minutes. Yu knew that Wen had a Glock in that pocket. Fully loaded one.

Therefore, when at the end of the fortieth minute of their forced march through enemy territory, they heard someone's furious roar, they lost their nerves at the same time at all. They pointed their guns in voice direction, so that in the next moment they would instantly pale, identifying their opponent.

A big man, wearing only blue jeans, hairy, with long, greasy blond hair, an "E88" tattoo on one bicep, and a wolf superimposed on a swastika on the other.

Hookwolf.

At that very moment, Chen decided that it was time to stop being an atheist. 

**-Linebreak-**

PRT was looking for her. Sophia wasn't stupid not to understand the consequences that came up with Hebert's trigger. Frankly speaking, Sophia just didn't have sufficient imagination to come up with an insult that would suit Taylor more than who she was.

And that's why Hess chose the most unobvious place she could think of as a hiding place. Namely, a block controlled by 88 Empire. Nazis were racist bastards, but they were bastards with principles. And that's why finding someone whose skin color was totally different from white was nonsense here. And nobody will ever start to find her there

She spent her days in the attic of one of those typical smalltown houses, where she managed to find a more or less decent bed with a minimum number of bedbugs. At night, she went out on a hunt for supplies. She stole some food from one of the minimarkets, somewhere down the street. There was no CCTV in this place, so she had nothing to worry about. Now she had some food and water.

However, Sofia realized that she couldn't last long. She felt an acute sense of injustice. Why Hebert is now resting in a hospital, when she, Shadow Stalker, is forced to live in a shithole!

But whatever her feelings were, the predator's instincts told her that it was extremely dangerous to approach Hebert now. And Hess tended to trust her feelings. But she also knew that she needed to get her life back on track, at least by returning some things to their old places.

She came up with a plan. A simple one. But very effective in her opinion. She's at the Empire territory now. Alone. No one had even guessed her presence here, and she could hardly imagine that anyone would even think that the Ward would be in a place like this. And this gave her one wonderful opportunity:

She could track down Empire. To find out who, where and how worked. How they operated. Where did they store their goods, money, drugs? What are they planning, what they are talking about? After all, she was a Shadow Stalker, and the shadows are everywhere.

And therefore, as soon as she heard the shooting through her morning sleep, her route today was determined. Entering her Breaker state, she slipped through the wall, climbing out to the neighborhood roof, and then rushed in direction where the sounds of firing and metal grinding were.

Perhaps today she will finally be lucky. 

**-Linebreak-**

That was the first time Taylor came to her senses, and there was no one around her. No gods, no monsters, no doctors, no capes. She was alone.

And Taylor couldn't admit that she wasn't happy with the outcome.

It was her first awakening when she did not feel pain in her whole body and could see with both of her eyes. Realizing that she was really alone, Taylor was able to get close to what might be called "relaxation".

But she was very, very far away from a true state of relaxation. Thoughts in her head, no longer subject to censorship of the need to think about a particular situation, were swarming in a flock of angry bees, stinging her consciousness with fragments of facts that lined up for her in a fragile, with dozens of missing fragments, but very unsightly picture.

She survived. Somehow incredible and completely incomprehensible to her way she survived after... after what the Trio had done to her. She was in a coma for about a month… and during that time her life went downhill. And then... then she triggered.

Even now, looking into herself, Taylor felt the **[Gate]** inside her mind. And there was something behind this Gate. Or someone. Perhaps her strange dreams about talking to strange voices were not dreams at all. In any case, she knew that she still had to understand what she had become. **[Personas]** were… different. She could not describe how they were different or what exactly they were.

But from somewhere in the depths of her consciousness came the understanding that whatever the **[Persona]** was - it was incredibly powerful

In any case, her trigger did not go unnoticed. Taylor had no idea what had happened in that hospital, but she could have guessed that something bad had happened... bad enough to get several capes into her room at once.

And then... Then there was _Panacea_.

Once the image of the famous cape appeared in her head, the girl felt a herd of goosebumps running down her back and a cold, sticky sweat on her forehead.

Taylor was afraid. She was afraid and didn't understand why.

She knew with her mind that Panacea would never hurt her, but her mind was one thing, and everything else in her head was completely different. She wouldn't let Panacea touch her, but Isis cured her and then did... something else, after which Taylor passed out.

She knew she was healthy. She felt it. She could get out of bed at any time and try to get out of the room.

But…

Consciousness has hit Taylor as hard as a hammer.

She had nowhere else to go.

There is _no father._ There is _no home_. There are _no friends_. There are _no allies_.

Taylor looked at her hospital pajamas. She _didn't even possess any clothes_.

And a choice. There is _no choice_ either.

Escape?

Taylor even looked at the thick metal door that separated her room from the hallway and smiled. Even if she could get out, she had nowhere to go.

No, of course, she could become a vigilante or go villain. But to become the first one she needed resources. S plenty of them. And she had none. Not even clothes. Only pajamas and her own power. Not the best starter kit in her opinion.

Second option...

Taylor smiled sadly.

Become a villain. Somehow it seemed easy to her. Too easy. After all, in fact, there is nothing to hold her, nothing to stop her. No strings attached, no bonds tying her with her common life. She no longer had to worry about her father and school.

She didn't understand but felt that if she wanted to, [Persona] would open all the doors and locks for her, whatever they were. Any chains and restrictions - all this will be torn down when she throws off the limits that she has set for herself…

She went up off the bed and looked at her arm. Her skin was smooth and healthy, and there was no sign of what had happened in the last month.

She felt it. Her boiling rage, sadness, grief, her own insanity. All of those feelings, that she somehow kept underneath her consciousness. They blend together, mixing with her newly acquired power. It was a dangerous, volatile mixture. And it sought out. She held up her hand, letting… this to come out. Something hot for a moment seemed to flow through her veins, and a second later she saw a fire in her palm.

Taylor could call it "fireball". If it weren't for the feeling of total incorrectness of the name. This ... energy ball was capable of much more than just leaving burns. The energy created to destroy, split into atoms and disintegrate matter. Embodied Chaos, collected in a dense sphere, ready to fall off her hand in a single moment, turning idyllic into a flaming hell…

" _Megido"_ , her lips whispered that name... Like she knew it before but long forgot, and now the memories slowly resurfaced in her head.

She looked at how energy was pulsating in her hand, in unison with her heartbeat.

At the same time, she felt herself balancing on a rope in the middle of a precipice.

One wish. One message. One solution.

That would solve _everything_.

No one knows how the wheel of history would have turned, and what the consequences would have been if Jessica Yamada had entered her room a dozen seconds later.

 **-Linebreak-**

 _Emily Piggot_

Emily issued search warrants for Armsmaster for the homes of the Winslow incident participants. Police was not particularly keen to facilitate PRT and did not want to reopen an already closed case. But Emily managed to press the chief of police by talking to Mayor Roy. But even so, detectives were not particularly keen to help, and therefore Piggot had to take risky, somewhat illegal, measures.

Armsmaster searched Clements's house yesterday before the briefing, but right now she was writing a report to the prosecutor, trying to keep the letter of the law. PRT had enormous credentials when things went south. But after that… well, she had a ton of paperwork. But the paperwork was the least problem she had for now. Keeping under wraps whole Hebert incident - that was clearly another level. She managed to put on a Quarantine on those who were healed by Isis, but that was only a temporary measure. Journalists already smelled the blood.

With her last signature, Emily put aside a stack of paper, taking a look at her computer screen. Two o'clock in the afternoon. A little more than twelve hours before she had to send her report to the headquarters. And after that...

Well, Piggott survived Ellisburg. Whatever will happen, it's unlikely to be much worse than what happened there. Although Nilbog's creatures were nothing compared to the office rats working on PRT.

"That foolish Hess be damned" Emily whispered under her nose, an inner fire of her own for her carelessness in choosing a curator. This snotty Greengrass girl, who was put in charge of Hess, was naive and simple enough to believe the mentee and the Winslow releases about her behavior without verifying all the information, especially after the incident with Hebert. Of course, you can't turn a blind eye to what she did. She already signed the dismissal order.

Suddenly, Piggot's intercom revived the voice of her secretary:

 _"Ma'am, a call from the headquarters."_

" I told you, that I am busy. Answer it yourself."

 _"Ma'am, they say it's only in your competence."_

"What do they want?"

 _"They say it's something to do with Armsmaster's inventions."_

Emily sighed. Colin often fulfilled the orders of his Protectorate colleagues, but according to the regulations, each of these things had to go through it personally.

"Okay. Put it through."

Emily picked up the phone and got ready for another formal conversation about things she didn't understand much about. And all the more shocking for her was the voice of Rebecca Costa-Brown, sounding from the other end of the wire.

 _"Hello, Emily. Maybe you can explain why I have to use such tricks to communicate with you. And what the hell is going on at your Brockton Bay?"_

At that moment, Emily Piggot saw her entire successful career flying before her eyes. But it was already too late.

She had no time.

"Ma'am... the situation is difficult."

 **-Linebreak-**

Hookwolf was pleased to consider a bunch of unconscious members of the ABB. He did not kill them but taught them a good lesson, so there was enough blood. He wondered, what these scumbags were doing in Empire's territory, but he was glad to demonstrate to them why Empire is superior to any other gang in Brockton Bay.

Frankly speaking, he did not understand what these guys were hoping for when they wandered here. ABB should have known that the guns were simply not working against him, especially when he was in his Changer state. Though perhaps, he just overestimated the narrow-eyed, and he caught real jerks.

Anyway, shots didn't hurt him at all. That's not to say about a transformer on a wall a couple of tens of meters away from it. Whether it was a stray bullet or a ricochet, it was not particularly interesting. Now, this thing was smoking and sparkled a little.

It was at this point that Hookwolf caught the call from the Kaiser. It turned out that Oni Lee and a dozen ordinary gang members attacked the weapons warehouse, which the Empire was going to sell next week. And now, they needed him there.

After looking back at the site of the massacre, he, having cursed dirty, hurried towards the warehouse districts. He didn't want to keep his boss waiting.

 **-Linebreak-**

The sizzle of the opening door was too much of a surprise for Taylor. Frightened by the sudden sound, she jumped up on the bed, and the Megido went out by itself, disappearing without a trace.

A few seconds later, a young black-haired woman with Asian facial features, about thirty years old, entered the room. Having caught Taylor's eye, the woman smiled a little and asked:

"Can I come in?"

 _Winslow._

Taylor didn't know what to say. She was calm if that's what you'd call it, and she was in a state of oblivion. Her heart knocked as if she was threatening to jump out of her chest, and her body was as if it were frozen.

She was afraid of this woman. She did not know why.

"I think you've already entered... " Taylor tried to keep her voice as calm as possible, but apparently she didn't do well.

The woman clearly heard the tearful notes in her voice and therefore raised her hands and tried to calm her down

"There's no need to worry, Miss Ebert. I won't hurt you. I'm not even a cape. Just a psychologist."

"A psychologist?" Taylor understood that she was far from okay, but still she did not understand the motives of sending a psychologist to her...

The woman nodded.

"Yes. My name is Jessica Yamada. And I'm here to help you."

 ** _When Did Sin Become a Virtue and Intent Become a Plan?_**

That voice... that voice Taylor has heard before. Then, in the hospital, before she fell asleep, she heard that voice. Incredibly beautiful and as if enticing…

Only this time it wasn't in her head.

Now there were three people in the room. Except for Yamada and Taylor herself, who had been unnoticed by anyone, or maybe a millisecond earlier, was a man.

But it was only by looking at him that Taylor wanted to take it back. This man's face... It was too innocent, too beautiful, and too charming to belong to any one of the human race. It was as if a child had just come into this world without knowing all his bitterness, but immediately found an adult body - this celestial man looked so innocent and beautiful.

Taylor was never interested in guys, being more focused on surviving in a hell of a place like Winslow, but even she recognized the beauty that a man's body could possess. And now she has seen for herself an unattainable ideal to which the mere men of the human race could aspire. It was a body that could not be described and imagined, but at the same time, once seen, it froze forever in the consciousness on the pedestal of the unattainable.

But most surprising were his eyes. Innocent and beautiful, the gaze of the blue eyes of the celestial man was full of infinite wisdom, clear mind and some completely inhuman feeling of regret with which he looked at the world.

That was him.

But only for a second, before he looked back at his listeners with a barely noticeable movement of his eyes, after which... it was as if he had gone out.

Taylor couldn't describe what he had done. But it felt as if the switch had been pulled out of the sun, and it went out.

The celestial man looked at Taylor before he said it again:

 ** _Daughter of Eve, This Presence Of Mine Was Too Bright For Thou._**

Taylor could only nod back. For some reason, she felt a little more confident when he got here.

\- Who are you? - It took Jessica a great deal of effort to maintain her composure when this stranger suddenly showed up. But his impact on her... Jessica will remember these few seconds for a long time to come.

 ** _By Depriving Faith, Divesting Blood, Bereaving Home, Mankind Again Called up Upon a Fate of Babylon._**

 ** _Eve's Daughter Called - So There Am I_**

\- And yet you didn't answer my question - Yamada had to make some effort to find the strength to talk to this projection.

The celestial man looked almost surprised.

 ** _I Am the Bringer Of the Dawn._**

 ** _But Not For Me, You Are Here._**

"Damn it. He's right. The girl is still here." Jessica said to herself. She turned to Taylor again.

"So we were distracted. As I said, I'm here to help you. We were able to figure out your circumstances..." Jessica stopped for a second trying to assess Taylor's reaction. The girl got tense, but Jessica thought it wasn't beyond the norm, because even the most adequate capes didn't feel so good about mentioning their trigger, -

"... of your trigger event."

"And... what?" - Taylor's voice had a note of hope in it. It seemed to her for a second that in the middle of this endless space, the light at the end of the tunnel, out of horror and darkness, was shining. Will there come a day and this hell will come to an end?

Yamada didn't show it, but inside it was relieved to exhale. Contact was established. That was the basis on which she could already build further conversation and possible help.

"The investigation is not over yet, but all the perpetrators will be identified in the near future."

 ** _How Beautiful Is the Lace of Words Weaved From Truthfulness of Lies. Indeed, Mankind Have Learned My Lesson._**

There was a subtle mockery in the Nephilim's voice that none of those present could yet understand. Yamada was about to continue, but he spoke again:

 ** _Ask Her, Daughter Of Eve. That Question That Thou Desire To Ask._**

Taylor didn't know how he was doing it, but she knew exactly what **[Persona]** was talking about. And the thought of them was the only thing that poured ice down her spine.

"The Trio…" - Her voice was husky, but she didn't pay attention to it.

"You arrested them, didn't you?"

For Jessica, the conversation immediately took an unpleasant turn. It was very, very thin ice. Chambers strongly advised against opening up the Ghost Stalker's identity to the undertaker.

"You mean Madison Clements, Emma Barnes, and Sophia Hess?" - rhetorically asked her patient, Yamada.

Waiting for a gloomy nod, she exhaled to gather her thoughts and make the wording as soft as possible:

"Miss Clements is in custody. Miss Barnes... Her father is a good enough lawyer to get her house arrest…"

Jessica stopped talking, thinking about answering. But Hebert smelled something wrong.

"What about Sophia?" - her voice almost disappeared from shiver and doubt.  
Jessica was good at reading people's emotions, and apparently, Ebert was in a state prior to anger. And one thing was already dangerous.

"I'm afraid that Miss Hess is on the run…" - that was the vaguest and, at the same time, a truthful formulation that Jessica could have given without risking revealing Hess' identity as a cape.

 ** _Indeed, the Truth Is the Best of My Creations. However, Know This, Spawn Of Mankind, You Cannot Lie to Father Of It._**

"What? But I am not lying!" - Yamada was outraged to be interrupted by the smile that appeared on the face of the projection.

 ** _Truly so, Spawn Of Mankind, Only the Difference Between Truth and Verity is the difference between the severity of sin and repentance._**

"What are you talking about, Helel?" - this name came to Taylor's mind with an undeniable knowledge imprinted on its essence. She had to name herself and the knowledge was available to her. Helel, Lucifer, Star Of Dawn, Father Of Lies, Devourer Of Souls. He held many titles. But there were all names for the same thing. Only now was she beginning to understand his speeches, his addresses. But she didn't have time for that. She wanted to know.

 ** _Daughter Of Eve, Do You Desire the Verity That is Hidden From You by the Truth?_**

"I am."

 ** _Amen_**


	9. Ragnarøkkr 108

_Sophia Hess_

Sophia didn't understand how this could have happened. How could it all end so stupidly? Here she is, winged by the opening prospects, in a hurry on the roofs in the direction from where you can hear metal gnashing and people. Her destination was set. Her determination was strong. In her thoughts, she already sees the Hookwolf and other Empire grunts, tied up and lying under her feet. That would be dreams come true of course. She tended to be realistic about her own powers, but if she cannot capture - then she can find out how to. Unwritten rules still applied – Sophia was not suicidal, but there is plenty of things that PRT would really like to know about those damn Nazis. That was her out-of-jail card.

By the time she reached the scene, the skirmish was already over. Hess looked up from the roof and assessed the situation in the alley underneath it. A dozen Asians with different degrees of stab wounds were scattered in different positions on asphalt. Nothing fatal, they will live until emergency services arrive. In any case, she could not afford to call the medics - it was vital for her to keep the radio silence. Not that she had any desire to do that. So let the fucking Asians take care of themselves. She had to start pursuing her real goal.

Hookwolf had to be here. He could not go far; at least his werewolf's form was very easy to see, so she assumed he was still moving on his two.

At this very moment, an incident happened. Various obstacles, unlucky coincidences. Chain of variables, bad luck. Unenviable Fate. There was a snowfall yesterday. Nothing serious, but the roof was slippery. Sophia tripped, lost her balance and fell off the roof. Instinctively she entered her Breaker state, but it was too late. Her Tinkertech lenses, which was supposed to detect the wiring lines, she disabled them, fearing about possible tracker implanted in them. Only when her fall was inevitable, Stalker noticed badly damaged electrical shield, which was sparkling right now.

The next thing she felt was a pain. An electric shock sparkled with a white lightning bolt and struck the shadow that Sophia was, instantly throwing her out of her breaker state at a height of a few meters above the ground. The shock of the current was enough for Sophia to paralyze her, even though her suit was specifically designed to resist electrical damage. Unable to tuck she fell hard.

She hit her head on the gentle aluminum lid of the trash can with a deaf knocking before finally reaching the asphalt.

There was a nasty crunch. Sophia, barely conscious, had time to catch a picture of her own leg bent at an obviously wrong angle before a late pain flash finally sent her to oblivion.

However, she did not realize that her fall did not go unnoticed. On the other side of the street, right across from the alley where the massacre was taking place, new security camera was recording online, simultaneously broadcasting everything to a remote server.

Sophia literally woke up a sleeping Dragon. At least if "passive self-correcting internal program check-up" could be defined as a "sleeping".

Stalker did not know about that. And she wouldn't even know. However, the next thing she saw was Armsmaster's armored figure and her own hands tied by electric handcuffs.

Through the hellish pain in her whole body, exactly one single thought made its way into her mind.

She lost.

 **-Linebreak-**

 _Taylor Hebert_

She felt nothing. No words, no thoughts, no ideas. The gaping void in her head filled with the grim darkness of fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety found confirmation by the Devil himself.

Dawnbringer... Lucifer, he showed everything. By the maneuver of his hand in front of them as if a screen appeared showing everything that had happened while she was out cold. Protectorate, Panacea, people, briefings, Emma, Sophia. Every step they made every word. Everything.

She... she felt… pleasant when she heard her bones crumbling. Did she feel... satisfied? She saw how quickly the Armsmaster arrived to grab her and take her to the Protectorate base...

 _Hess._

 _Emma. Madison. Sofia. Winslow._

 _Hess._

 _Sophia Hess._

 _Shadow Stalker._

She saw her face. Sophia took off her mask when she thought no one could see. She recognized her.

She realized who she was. She realized which group she belonged to.

Sophia Hess was a _hero_.

 _Emma. Madison. Sophia. Winslow. Protectorate._

She wasn't shocked. No. She was definitely not able to experience any emotion. No. It was something else. She literally felt that the last strings of what connected her with her previous life were brutally severed.

When they took her _friends_ away from her - she was _lonely_.

When they took away her _house_ \- she was _homesick_.

When they took away her _health_ \- she was _in_ _pain_.

When they took her _father_ away from her - she _mourned_.

When they took her _life_ \- she _died_.

When they took _herself_ away from her - she _changed_.

Now they took away her _dream_.

And she really has nothing to lose.

Something inside her had changed. Irreversible and forever. Fear mixed with the pain of loss, the splinters of her dreams and ideals' air castle, emptiness created by hatred... All this mixed up.

Out of this mixture anger was born.

As if the hot poison had spread through her veins, throwing her body into the heat, making her heart beat faster, saturating her blood with oxygen, literally making her live.

They took everything and demanded more.

She slowly turned her head toward Yamada. The woman who was sitting in front of her was pale. Even the praised self-control couldn't contain her excitement. Her fear.

"All this time... you knew. Knew who she was... What kind of person she is..." - words... seemed inanimate. Dry. Not even a thousandth of the hatred she felt for Hess.

"Look. Calm down. We didn't know about…"

She didn't want to listen. She knew what they would say. Every lie, every truth, every verity. Helel showed more than she could see with her eyes. More than she would have liked. She didn't want to hear, and the powers inside her obeyed her desire. In the room, it was as if they had turned off the sound. Yamada continued to speak without hearing her own voice...

"You knew enough. Enough to prevent all this from happening!" - she screamed into this silence. –"You knew... and you let it all happen. Father... He died because of your mistake!"

She didn't notice how she got out of bed. The tiled floor was cold. But she didn't care. She came to the window to look out of there.

The gloomy winter sky did not please her eyes. Everything seemed gray and colorless to her. Cars, buildings, houses, people. Everything seemed unimportant to her. She wanted to leave, to be alone, so that no one would hurt her, giving her even a little peace.

She looked back.

Helel was gone. She didn't notice the moment when he disappeared when he came back from where he came from. Yamada... The woman was watching her closely. She was still scared, she still couldn't hear the sounds of her own voice. But she looked at her, right in the eyes. And it scared her even more.

"He died because of you. Because of your desire to leave that bitch on the "Hero Side". But..."

She lost her temper. Dad... He wouldn't want her to take revenge. He was always an opponent of a forceful solution to the problem. He never raised his hand, never found strength to do anything cruel...

"Memory... The only thing that remained. It's everything I have right now because of you. That's why I leave. Because of memories. Because of someone, who believed in good deeds."

Bold words. Filled with cheap pathos. Clichéd as hell. But they just feel… right at the very moment. She... she was furious. Moreover, at the same time... she was afraid. Even more than before.

Honestly, she did not want to leave. She wanted to escape. They would not let her out so easily.

Her fear, her anger, her rage... They felt her emotions. [Sea] responded. On the periphery of the mind, on the very edge between the conscious and unconscious, they spoke. Volcanic eruptions, bubbling magma, howling ash. Buzzling sound of billions of flies. Rattling of Countless Battle cries on a never-ending war. They talked, whispered, shouted. Fire and destruction, withering and rotting, strife and agony... All this was in her power, was under her skin, poisoned her soul, pledge her power, called into the abyss.

It... It was so easy to give up. It was too easy for her to contain herself.

Nevertheless, while she was furious, she was afraid. Too many foes and no allies. She could declare war, command a massacre. However, she desired protection. Feel safe.

There was one. Presence. One that vowed to protect.

 **[Persona]**

 _The smell of ozone, the quiet crackling of static discharges running on white and black skin. He breathes in unfamiliar air with a sniffle, moving the vibrices. He is far from home. Eons apart from it. His times long since have passed; times of gods and demons, of heroes and monsters. He came into oblivion when the Great Empire fell. Empire that he was sworn to protect. Only the pale echo remains._

 _His paws easily draw furrows in the tile, because what can a simple material mortal against the claws that ripped any armor and flesh for thousands of years._

 _He can smell the fear of the woman in this room. He can smell the warriors who have frozen in strange combat orders outside the walls. He will not allow it. The Guardian of the West never let enemies pass through while he is standing._

His fur is surprisingly soft and barely sparkling. Four-meter long tiger, solid two meters at the withers, he could hardly fit into the room, immediately taking up all the space available. He bowed his head in front of her, as if recognizing her superiority, and she scratched him behind his ear.

She looked at Yamada with guilt. She was... probably sorry for her. It wasn't her fault what happened. But the Protectorate was one to blame.

"I'm sorry... but I've got to go," she said, and with those words, she climbed into the neck of a giant predator. It wasn't anger inside her anymore...

She didn't know how to describe it. It was probably fatigue... So strong that she was interrupting all other emotions and fears. She just wanted to leave.

A mental effort - and a mighty paw rips apart a metal ceramics, like a hot knife - butter. But the aisle is still small, so the beast hits a backhand, just knocking out the rest of the door somewhere into the corridor. She can hear someone's bones crunching.

They come out, leaving Yamada unable to move out of place behind. In the corridor, they are greeted by the shine of the blued steel of numerous rifles and foam sprayers.

"Stand still..." the senior officer tries to shout, but the beast won't let him finish. At one point, the little sparks dancing on his fur come together and hit the soldier with a dazzling lightning bolt. He falls to the floor, squirming with pain in numerous burns. The molten rifle burns his hands.

This serves as an attack signal.

Gun fires. Foam sprayed. Beast roared.

She closes her eyes. Too bright. Too scary. Shouts and shots, sounds of blows and lightning strikes. With her whole body pressed against his hide, she hopes she'll be all right. She feels the powerful muscles rolling under its warm skin.

It only lasts a dozen seconds before the rumble stops. A couple of seconds later, she finds the strength to open her eyes.

Scarlet.

This is the first thing she sees. The hospital walls, previously clean and purely white, are now painted in red. Covered by blood. Human blood.

And bodies... bodies everywhere. More than two dozen people. People who just wouldn't let her go. She didn't want to cause this harm. Not at all. But she was ready to do it if it was worth it. And now... now she thinks it's an acceptable price to pay. A price for freedom.

With a sixth sense, she realizes that the Guardian of the West was merciful, and none of the guards have died yet. Wounds, scary and bloody, lightning burned or frozen in ice, should save them. Apparently, this is the mercy of the Defender to those who follow the same duty as him.

They begin to move. The powerful body moves almost silently, with all possible grace of the predator. She does not know where to go, but only relies on the instincts of the beast. After a while they find a ladder leading down. The beast growls quietly, warning her of the danger. She falls to his skin again, hoping to protect herself from possible har,.

They're waiting for her. More of them. Without words, only tranquilizers and foam.

Having received a stream of foam in the face, the beast snorts, and then in one movement disintegrates it with a couple of darts fired, preventing those to reach the one he protects. Lamps burst from his roar, plunging all the surroundings into darkness.

Flashes and crackles of lightning again. Ozone smell in the air. People shouting. Something liquid falls on her cheek, flowing down her instantly, straight into her mouth ajar. Familiar, brackish taste.

Blood... someone else's blood. The blood that will be on her hands.

What would _Danny_ say?

The battle is over, and now they are moving towards the exit, behind which the big world lurks.

She touches bloody cheek with her hand.

Blood... Why... Why would she...

 _Emma. Madison. Sofia. Winslow. Protectorate._

She remembers. Too good. Too clear. Blood. Her blood flowing out of her, the feeling of life that leaves her every second. Then, in the closet, even at that rare moment when her consciousness hadn't completely left her, she was trying to lick her own blood puddles on the floor in a fit of half-madness. Pour the precious liquid back into herself. Like a beast that has lost its humanity.

It tastes like blood again.

Salty. As then. At Winslow.

They're already outside.

The cold February air is unpleasant to cool the skin. She realizes she's going to freeze so fast. She needs to find shelter. Faster.

Bai Hu snaps at running to stop after a few seconds, snarling in pain. She feels that the animal has got a wound in her eye. But where did it come from?

The second bullet dissolves in a flash of lightning near her eyes, causing her to go blind for a few seconds. This bullet was intended only for her.

She is in pain.

 _Protectorate._

She feels that the **[Gate]** , which holds back the unknown force, opens a bit. Unimaginable force fills her, overflows her, and she pours it in the only source available.

The beast growls victoriously.

Earth... Since when can she look into the third-floor window without raising her head? And the sparks... It's not sparking anymore, which are innocently dancing on the beast's fur. No.

No. Now they're real lightning bolts that wriggle like snakes and caress her.

The beast growls. He wants to know.

And she hesitates. Who is she? Taylor Hebert or someone new? Someone who was born from ashes leftover from everything that happened to Taylor?

Who is she?

What would _Danny_ say?

What would _Annette_ say?

She's looking at the blood on her arm again. She feels those people who are frozen on the doorstep of life and death inside the building. She can feel them approaching the point of no return. Is she ready?

Is she ready... to _kill_?

Emma. Madison. Sophia. Winslow. Protectorate.

What will she do better than them? If she leaves, she will do exactly the same as they do. If she attacks, she will be worse than they are. If she gives up at the very beginning, she will be nothing.

The situation without an exit. A road without a return.

But she threw this lot. And who knows, maybe her coin would stand on a rib?

She has no time to decide. Every breath, every beating of other people's hearts brings her closer to the line, beyond which there will be no choice between the parties. And she will make her bet, even if she regrets it later.

Already a familiar feeling. Familiar presence. Taylor calls for her. And Persona responds.

 **[Persona]**

Now the wings of Isis are stretched out to the sides, and the sun sign on her head is shining. She looks at her with a smile, without noticing how powerless the senseless bullets are beating against the invisible shield.

 ** _Child, I am glad to meet you again._**

She speaks without opening her lips, and her words are heard everywhere. With the edge of her eye, Taylor sees the cars being pulled out of the alleys, forming a cordon as fast as possible. She sees capes gathering on the roof of one of the buildings nearby. She feels the power bubbling inside her, preparing to break out. But she only directs it to Isis.

The sun on her head is shining brighter and brighter, preparing to be as luminous as her original. But her smile... From sad and understanding she turns into a smile of pure and sincere joy, with notes of pride. So she feels it.

 ** _You have found the strength to stay human._**

Taylor doesn't need words. She knows that Isis feels all those who are on the threshold of Anubis' kingdom. She only adds strength, hoping that this will be enough.

 ** _I will fulfill thou wish by giving mortals their life back._**

The sun on her head, the symbol of her unity with Ra, begins to pulsate, separating the particle of light from herself, which slowly begins to rise into the sky, accompanied by dozens or even hundreds of views. The bullets go through without causing any harm.

Finally, at an altitude of hundreds of meters, the clot hangs for a second before exploding in gold rain. Gold drops, ignoring the physics and obstacles, penetrating through the roofs and concrete, flying along the trajectories they lead only to those who need treatment most.

Even the worst wounds, guaranteed to be fatal, can heal without a trace, is only a fraction of the healing light to touch the wound. Yes, the dead will not rise up, yet Mediaran has to sacrifice efficiency at the expense of the masses, but they can pull out those who have one foot in the grave.

Isis' voice is heard in her head:

 ** _Leave, child. Let the Guardian seek shelter while I cool down your enemies' fervor._**

Taylor nods. She doesn't want any more blood... Not today. Not now. Not so soon. So she gives the order, and the next moment Bai Hu disappears with her in a blinding flash, leaving Isis to soar proudly in the middle of an unexpected battlefield.

 ** _Hear Me, Protectors of Maat. I Am The Bird of Hut. I Am Isis. I Will Not Hurt You, I Am the Messenger of Peace._**

By obeying the shining of her tiara sky over Brockton Bay is clearing the clouds and the sun looks out, illuminating the city with its unexpectedly warm light.

 ** _This Child Does Not Strive For Blood, Just Asking For Privacy. Leaving Me To Grant Thou Healing, She Is Sorry For the Blood That Has Already Been Shed._**

With these words, the goddess came down to earth to freeze, enjoying the effect internally. People have become really fun over the past millennia.

 **-Linebreak-**

 _Rebecca Costa Brown._

Thinker power, which does not allow you to forget absolutely anything, is a blessing and a curse. Keeping things in mind that would make many battle-hardened veterans bleed to death wasn't easy. She remembered the day when the Behemoth emerged. Same with Leviathan and Simurgh. She remembered Slaughterhouse Nine, Hero's Death, Ellisburg. Too many memories. Too many sorrows.  
Each action always gives rise to a counteraction. Each conflict gives rise to a reciprocal force that beats a hundred times harder. Brockton Bay was such a place. The smoldering charcoal had been left without Rebecca's attention for too long, too much time there was nothing happening. The status quo there had lasted too long. Experiment, which was doomed to fail one day finally come to an end. She had a feeling.

A huge white tiger wrapped in lightning bolts, which grew from two to fifteen meters in height in a few moments, reminded her of Lung. Dragon turning battle maniac also happen to live in Brocton. But there was a difference

Lung was a cape. Not Projection like this one. A damn projection that can evaporate and disintegrate bullets with lightning strikes, also manipulating ice.

And if it was all... That… Isis. Rebecca knew Egyptian mythology. Too good for her taste. And that's why... If this projection is even a drop, a mere fraction of its mythological original...

And that Hebert left her just to have some privacy. And the list goes on.

Too many "If". Too many unknown variables. Alexandria did not like the unknown. This whole situation... All this required her personal involvement. Even if it was sanctioned by Contessa.

Once logged in, Rebecca quickly found the right mailing pattern for the Brocktonbay office.

 _"From: Rebecca Costa Braun_

 _To: Brockton Bay Protectorate_

 _Subject: Taylor Hebert_

 _The case of Taylor Hebert, as well as the circumstances surrounding her trigger, come under the personal control of the Headquarters. Alexandria will be sent to the place together with a team of competent specialists who will be able to assess the threat of a new cape. Until then any contact with Taylor Hebert is FORBIDDEN before the circumstances are clarified. Taylor Hebert is now to be labeled as a "vigilante" until further threat evaluation."_

Alexandria chewed on her lips. "Mortician"... Such a nickname was given to this girl... No. It didn't suit her. Wrong subject. New Facts revealed. A new identifier was needed.

A strange creature with coffins hovering behind her back. Isis, with her inhuman beauty.

And now a huge electric tiger...

Mythology. Gods. Demons. Monsters. Who knows what a girl can do? Maybe she can really call the same Egyptian pantheon?

Costa Brown couldn't help but smile. Not a bad nickname.

 _New Alias to be assigned to Taylor Hebert. "Pantheon"_

 ** _Ragnrarokkr Ch1. End_**  
_

 ** _AN: Sorry for a delay. Mother got her PC encrypted with some new ransomeware and there were no backups, so it took some time to fix things. I would like to say that Taylor is not giving up her hopes of becoming a hero. Nor the Protectorate in their plans for dealing with Taylor trigger._**

 ** _Great thanks for your patience and for correcting my shameful mistakes._**

 ** _P.S. About Taylor and her powers - yes, she's pretty fucking OP. She has Universe Arcana so she isn't limited by a concrete number of Personas. She could summon them all. But there's a plenty of limitations for this power._**


	10. Ragnarøkkr 201

_Panacea_

Amy was dead tired. For her today was too exhausting, too vivid for events and nervous.

She would lie if she says said that she was not expecting any trouble today. Monday morning didn't work out from the very beginning. Her weekend was troublesome enough with this whole Morti…Pantheon event. Her dreams for peaceful sleep were shattered with nightmares after her meeting with Pantheon's Projection. This... creature whatever it was, represented very antipode of Panacea's power, and its appearance... penetrated her soul much more than Amy could have imagined.

Not to mention meeting Isis. Amy wasn't ignorant, so it wasn't hard for her to remember that name. Mother Goddess of the Egyptian pantheon. She was the patroness of women and mastery over life. That she was.

Panacea still refused to believe in how Pantheon projections denied ordinary reality, all that she was used to. Instant tissue regeneration without reducing telomeres length and the use of free body mass. Panacea could have been a healer, but Isis could really cure.

So then, chewing a little undercooked toast and almost biting her nose in the plate, Amy could not get rid of the idea that right now there was someone extraordinary in Brockton Central.

Amy... didn't like Mondays. To all intents and purposes, she could not remember a single person who would love them. Especially if your weekend was not really a weekend, and you're having Science test at nine.

Despite having superpowers, Endbringers, and all the bacchanalia of madness, which was her world, Amy still remained a simple student, with typical school problems. However, the thought of an unexpected patient did not go away, even during the test, which, however, she managed to write on an honest "B".

As soon as she, Victoria and Dean sat down at the table, she heard the phone ringing. A special phone. Moreover, it was not just her phone call, but also that of Dean, Victoria and the other Wards, who had attended school and were now scattered around the dining room. A few seconds later, the general school evacuation siren sounded.

There was no time for hunger. It was rare for PRT to summon the entire Wards squad. And now they were summoning all of them and New Wave. Amy had a very bad feeling about this.

What happened in the next half hour, Panacea could not describe except by the word "pure chaos". Instructions as such were practically absent, all they've been told that the Pantheon had escaped from the hospital, badly wounding dozens of PRT agents. This would not have been a reason for such panic, if not for public display of Pantheon's Projections.

When they arrived at the scene, Amy was shocked. Because the sight of a huge, fifteen-meter tall albino tiger, shrouded in real lightning, was something definitely new.

Director sanctioned fire. Miss Militia was using a sniper rifle trying to tranquilize Pantheon. At least at the beginning. Because after Panacea heard real sniper rifle shots. But everything they were throwing at Pantheon was useless. Her projection – that giant tiger had some sort of lightning shield around him. It effectively disintegrated bullets and stopped Kid Win's lasers. The SKPs were afraid to use more firepower because of the sheer size of this thing, it's closeness to a hospital which was in the middle of the evacuation process. Moreover, PRT feared that the tiger possesses Changer ability similar to Lung. Nobody wanted to deal with Lung-like Projection.

Panacea watched with anxiety how gradually all the masks of the Protectorate City Department and their allies were pulled down to the scene. A Stalemate. Calm before the storm. Almost like an Endbringer fight. She was horrified with that thought of her.

However, the massacre was not destined to happen. At one point, she saw a familiar figure floating near the tiger. Appearing out of nowhere there was Isis, Egyptian goddess didn't looked like she is suited for combat.

They were too far away to hear anything, but the effect was immediate. Winged projection shone, and an ephemeral bundle of light separated from her sunshine headpiece, which had risen into the air and exploded in gold rain. Amy could sworn that she heard some kind of dirty joke from Clockblocker before Aegis muffled him. One drop touched her body, and Amy felt that her fatigue dissolves without a trace, giving her vigor. It was... an amazing feeling. At the same time, she realized that it was just a micron crumb of what it could do.

At the same time, the lightning bolts running across a tiger's huge body broke out, creating a blinding flash that managed to break even through the autoblackening filters.

When the flash went out, projection, along with Pantheon disappeared from the battlefield, leaving behind destruction and the prints of huge paws on the asphalt. And Isis. Goddess still floated in the midair.

And then... Then she spoke. About help, about healing and Pantheon's willingness to actually help them despite all what happened. Panacea didn't remember well what happened after, mainly because she spent the next eight hours in an endless run around the hospital, examining every patient Isis had touched and then talking to doctors and PRT specialists.

She was led by Victoria's hand, which Amy suddenly found on her shoulder, detaching herself from another patient, confirming his complete recovery. She did not understand why this was necessary. But apparently, the PRT required maximum confidence that Isis healing was not a joke or some kind of biotech time bomb.

"Hey, Amy, how are you? You look like zombie" Victoria said carefully looking at her sister's face.

"Mm-hmm. All I want to do now is get home and drown in a hot bath," she whispered to her sister as she walked out of the room.

"Me, too... How much more do you have?"

"These are the last of them, I think. Anyway, I have already gone around all the wards that I was asked to check. If nobody said anything, we're kind of done..." - she lost half her word, stuck on the corner of the medical cart, and almost fell, but at the last second she was picked up by Victoria's strong hand.

"Fine. You've had enough for today. They're slavedrivers. You're looking like you are going to lose consciousness. You can do as you like, but I'll call mother and we'll fly home from here!"

"But the patients..." Amy sluggishly tried to object, internally agreeing with her sister's actions.

"It would be worse if the only and unique Panacea fell unconscious and broke her nose! You can't heal your wounds!" - Victoria put her hands in her sides, hanging over Panacea. The only thing left to do was to be ashamed of her silence - her sister was in her right. Then Victoria took the phone out of her suit pocket and dialed the number. It took half a minute before someone answered at the other end of the wire.

"Hi, Mum. It's me. Look, Amy's practically groggy, can we go home now? - The girl was quick to stab her in the pipe. That was all she was, energetic, bright, powerful... Glory.

Amy looked at her involuntarily. Even Vicky being tired after, looked better than Amy ever could, it seemed, just radiating a positive radiance and inspiring confidence in her powers. Maybe it was the effect of her aura, maybe just her innate charisma, Panacea did not know. She... just loved watching her. As long as possible. As close as possible. But it is contraindicated to think about some things. And she knew it. Meanwhile, Glory Girl was answered.

"Yeah, thanks, mom. Okay, we'll eat. Got It, straight to bed. Yeah, bye-bye," Victoria, smiling, turned to her sister after the call.

"Mom says that's enough for today. Are you ready to take a ride via Vicky Airlines?

"Sure," Panacea nodded, hiding her flaming cheeks in a hood.

Her sister looked at her with excitement.

"Hey, hey, are you all right? You're all red! Maybe you need to lie dow...

"No, it was just a little stuffy in the last ward. And stress... I'm okay, honestly," Amy said, hoping it would calm down the "Hen mode" which her sister used to have from time to time.

"Mm-hmm. I see how it's okay. Your face is not the first freshness of a zombie. Well, I'll get this Pantheon... I'll show her how not to fuck with the New Wave"

Panacea jumped up.

"Vicky, don't! Don't even think about confronting her! And especially to fight! Haven't you read the letter from Director Costa-Brown?

shocked with her sister's sudden outburst Victoria stepped away a couple of steps aside. Looking at her sister's excited face, she rubbed her forehead and raised her hands in a gesture of conciliation.

"Hey, take it easy, sister dear. I'm not gonna rush in. I know that I am somewhat reckless, but not to that degree. But if we, accidentally bump into each other…" Glory Girl hit her fist on the palm of her hand.

"Vicky..." Panacea started quietly.

"What do you want?" Her sister didn't often speak in such a crowded and pleading voice.

"Promise me."

"Promise you what?" Glory girl did not understand.

"Promise me you will be careful if you meet her. What... what you saw today isn't everything. I know... There's more. There are more of these projections. I saw at least one more... The one that killed people there at . And..." with every word, her voice became more and more shaky. Yes, she was a doctor and saw the worst of humanity. But she hadn't had time to burn out yet, no. She still felt, had her empathy towards her patients. And she still had fresh memories of that Projection, of how her power was screaming, feeling it's antipode. But she wasn't destined to burst into tears. Strong but gentle women's hands hugged her, attempting to crush her ribs.

"Don't cry... I don't know how that thing hurt you like that, but I'm not stupid, Amy. This Pantheon, whatever happened to her, now is extremely dangerous. Mom says she's potentially even more dangerous than Lung and the Empire combined. If we meet... I'll be careful. I promise."

"Okay..." Amy exhaled, burying her head in Glory Girl's chest. So they stood still for half a minute before the tension subsided, and both of them, who had already lowered their steam a little bit, headed towards the exit from the hospital.

-linebreak-

It was cold. Hospital clothes were clearly not designed for any long stay on-premises without heating, not to mention the February streets. The first breeze of the dank winter wind made Taylor realize this with all seriousness.

She wasn't too picky, setting up Bai-Hu coordinates to move, which is why she found herself, along with **[Persona]** , right on one of the streets of the long-deserted part of the Docks.

Away from the conflict, the Defender took his usual form, allowing him to move around the neighborhood without much trouble and without fear of being noticed because of Persona's huge size.

By breaking the barn lock on one of the doors (Bai Hu used of one his razor-sharp claws), she managed to get inside the most decent warehouse. Inside, there was darkness interrupted by the rare rays of light that fell from a few windows, illuminating small areas of space. It was foolish to hope for electricity in this part of the city.

But even the loneliness and roof over her head, which was so desirable, did not solve all the problems. More precisely... it didn't solve anything. And now she clearly understood that. Yes, she was healthy. Physically. But she didn't even have banal clothes, let alone money. Hell, even underwear wasn't there! And the worst part was that Taylor couldn't remember the last time she ate seriously. Everything was a little bit difficult with hospital food, as they fed it three times and something like liquid porridge, which practically didn't give it any nutritional value.

Acquiring money and food in this part of town was a very difficult task. However, as in any other part of the city. Taylor doubted that anyone in their right mind would want to sell something or lend clothes to a barefoot girl in a hospital gown alone for a naked body. To meet with the police or the PRT... Taylor had no desire.

She felt Isis leaving about half an hour later. Goddess was silent, but her presence seemed to warm to her.

Cuddling to the warm skin of Bai-Hu, she tried to warm herself up and think about what had happened soberly... As far as possible in her case.

 _Sophia..._

 _Emma. Madison. Soph..._

"Not now"! - She shouted at herself with a huge effort of will to keep the memories of that day away from her.

Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. This explained everything. Behavior. Impunity. Frequent "training". For Winslow, Stalker was not just a student, but a golden child with whom the Protectorate subsidized the Wards' schools.

It was painful. It really hurts to find out how those you consider heroes broke your life. And the more pleasant it was to see a broken figure of Hess, pulled into a suit, and Armsmaster taking her into custody.

She didn't hear everything from Yamada, but she heard enough. Madison is under arrest, Emma is under house arrest, and Stalker is within PRT containment cells… probably. That... was reassuring.

Perhaps they will finally get what they deserve. It won't bring anything back and it won't solve anything, but Taylor was quite happy that they will be punished for their deeds. She knew some things about how are things in colonies for minors proceeding. For someone like Emma or Madison, it would be literal Hell on Earth. Maybe if she was lucky, Hess would be sentenced to Birdcage. The most suitable place for someone like her, if you believe the rumors and the few official information.

But at this rate, Taylor is unlikely to live to see next week. Water was one thing, it's not so hard to find it in the city, it's much harder with food, let alone clothes. Perhaps she could have stopped by Kurt and Lacey's house, but... The thought of meeting someone connected to her... No. Just no.

She wanted to sob. She got out of one cage and got into another, bigger one. And she saw no way out. She was trapped here. In this Mad World. If only she could find a way out of this. Some kind of rabbit hole…

Something _shifted_ behind the **[Gate]**. A new Presence appeared. Someone new. Perhaps even young.

Maybe this one will actually help her as Isis did?

The words were spoken by themselves:

 **[Persona]**

 ** _Few people find a way out, some do not see it, even if they find it, and many do not even look for it._**

Taylor was getting scared of how quickly she got used to the voices in her head. Perhaps because somewhere on a subconscious level, she realized that they simply could not hurt her. Therefore, when she heard a new voice, she only slightly twitched, more surprised than frightened.

The new voice sounded... Like a girl of about her age. But there was something in that voice. As if a cute little baby voice could snap into the ruthless cry of a banshee.

"What are you talking about?" she asked into nothingness.

 ** _The best way to explain it is to do it_**

 ** _Clothes. Clothes. Clothes!_**

At the very moment when these words were spoken, Taylor felt the movement of tissue all over her body.

As she looked at it, she found that her body was now dressed in other clothes in addition to her hospital gown. An ancient cut of a grayish blue dress with a white apron, which was tied on the back with a big white bow. On her shoulders, she found a wide and warm fur coat with a collar of some animal's wool.

"Are these... clothes?" - Taylor was surprised to ask.

What I tell you three times is true

Her voice sounded joyful And it was... refreshing. She wasn't like Thanatos – while she felt closeness with him, she cannot understand him. He is too… out of this world for her. Lucifer… it was painful for her to even think about how and why the father of Lies did what he did. But Taylor wasn't stupid enough to communicate with literal Devil more than needed. Isis… she was okay, even helpful for her, maybe even caring about her, but she was too adult for Taylor liking. Not that Taylor held something against adults. But recent events… well, she wasn't obliged to be rational.

New clothes were… good. Clearly old-fashioned, but good nerveless. Everything is better than a medical gown. Well, it looked like her power is more versatile than she anticipated.

Pleased by this outcome she let Persona manifest.

She just showed up. It was as if she had come out from behind an invisible door that separated them from each other. She was wearing an almost identical blue dress with an apron. Only her dress seemed more intense than Taylor's.

But... that wasn't surprising. Somehow. Taylor seemed for a second to look at herself as if she were looking at herself, reflected in a crooked mirror. They were too similar. Same height, same body proportions, same facial features. They differed only in the color of eyes and hair. The hair of the brightest gold fell on her shoulders. Together with her eyes that were so piercing blue that they seemed to glow in the dark, it made her so innocent and beautiful that Taylor unwittingly wondered if she herself might seem the same.

Her reflected copy smiled. Her smile did shine in the darkness.

"Never consider yourself different from what others think you are, and then others won't consider you different from what you want them to think you are."

Something in Taylor's head clicked, putting her thoughts in their places.

Lying on the floor, Bai-Hu snorted before looking at Taylor with his yellow eye. Feeling the dumb question, Taylor smiled at him and nodded.

"Thank you, Defender. You can go now."

The tiger's last snarl was a glow of blue sparks. Taylor turned to another Persona.

"Welcome to Wonderland, Alice... Liddell." she said as she stood up from the floor. Taylor loved Carroll's fairy tale as a child, and Annette never missed an opportunity to talk to her daughter about her favorite subject. That's why she knew the real name of the prototype character girl. But is she really a character?

"Ah, nobody called me that for a long time... " Alice just answered, continuing to smile warmly.

"Perhaps I should thank you for your clothes?"

"There's nothing to thank for, Contractor. It's just the smallest facet of what we are ready to bring to the world by your command. It is not worth gratitude."

"Thank you anyway. I'm... not in the best condition, to be honest" it was pretty strange - to talk about a psychological state with a creature that just a minute ago was just a voice in your head. Not mentioning the fact that the same creature is the main character from a classical fairytale.

"Oh, how familiar I am with these words... But don't be afraid. We will not harm the Contractor. And now... do you want some tea?" With this magician's gesture, she took out a porcelain kettle from behind her sinus.

As if in answer to this question Taylor's stomach rumbled almost comically.

"In fact, I could use something more… nutritious" she said, embarrassed, turning her head away. God, she was ashamed in front of her own Persona. But she was becoming more and more hungry.

Alice's eyes were rounded off before they flared up even brighter. She put her hand to her mouth, almost caricaturically depicting the shock. Although Taylor doubted to some extent that it was on purpose. More like gesticulating was part of her... legend?

"Oh, poor Contractor. Of course, you're hungry! Oh, how could Alice forget about such a simple thing as she could..." - Alice, as if started to repeat the words about her own forgetfulness, pretty nervous Taylor with a sudden surge of emotion.

"Everything is fine," Taylor tried to calm down this session of verbal self-abuse.

Alice interrupted half-word to look at Taylor again.

"Contractor isn't offended? Oh, Alice is happy about it, so happy! And now... A meal! Meal! Meal!" - she clapped her hands three times, and the third cotton in the dusty darkness of an abandoned warehouse out of nowhere appeared table.

Taylor wanted to wipe her eyes. She knew that her abilities were working... in a very strange way, but she had never heard of anything like that before. No, she had an idea that Eidolon was capable of something like that, but that she would?

The table that came out of nowhere was breaking down from dishes half the names of which Taylor didn't even know. There was a Peking duck, something like fondue, Viennese schnitzel, and a couple of dozen other dishes that looked as delicious as possible. And all the magnificence that was now opening up to Taylor was smelling so tempting that it seemed to her like she was going to be out of her stomach for another second to fill herself with these truly luxurious delicacies.

"It's a little too much for the two of us..." Taylor said with uncertainty, slowly moving towards the table. There were several bright chandeliers in the middle of the many dishes that gave us enough light to make it easy to see the entire table. At one end of the table, there were two carved wooden chairs with high backs on both sides, next to which were clean plates with a set of cutlery.

"Ah, I'm afraid there's no need to worry about me, Contractor. I am only here by your will, and this food is only for you!" showed Alice on the table, smiling.

"But then why the second cutlery set?"

"My Lady doesn't need to be alone. I will keep you company!" - Alice walked around the table in a circle and sat down on her seat, and then gently moved herself to the table. So did Taylor.

"S-so much..." Taylor said, not knowing what to choose.

"You shouldn't give preference to one the thing when you can try everything at once," Alice said enthusiastically, putting pieces of delicious meat, seasoned with some subtle smelling of spices, into your plate with quick movements.

Taylor followed that advice to the full, putting a little bit of everything on her plate. She did not focus on what she ate, focusing entirely on the process of filling her stomach.

All of this... all of this, all of this seemed to her to be such a surreal, unrealistic and unimaginable illogical plot of some postmodernist stories without morals. But at the same time, with every piece of food rolling down her throat, she increasingly accepted what was happening as an objective reality.

But still, she was scared of the speed with which her reality was changing. If someone had told her a month ago that she would have had such a simple lunch with a real book Alice, she would have at least turned her finger at her temple... However, everything has changed. And, frankly, she had no idea what to do next. But... she could postpone planning her future steps to a later time.

After quenching her hunger and eating more for pleasure than necessary, Taylor leaned back in her chair and looked at Alice. Persona had already dealt with the portion she thought was necessary for herself, and was slowly drinking tea from a kettle that seemed to come out of nowhere. She felt Taylor's gaze and smiled warmly again.

Taylor sighed and looked at the glass of delicious apple juice in her hand.

"Say... I know it's a bit of a stupid question, but still..." she shut up for a second, going with spirit.

"Are you... are you _real_?"

Persona thought about it. For the first time in their brief fellowship, Taylor didn't hear an instant response to her words.

Half a minute later, Alice gently put a half-empty cup on a saucer before she started:

"Depends on what you think is real, My Lady. I am hereby your will. Pierce me with a knife and I'll bleed. Kill me and I will return to the Sea of Souls to be called by you again. Though, I can't answer either yes or no.

Taylor wrapped her arms around her head.

"No, no. That's not what I meant. Are you real? Stories, legends, myths, books, all this... Is it true?

Alice just laughed at it.

"Ah, My Lady. Certainly not. And, of course, we are," she sipped tea, looking directly at Taylor.

"I don't understand" - Taylor really didn't understand, because Alice contradicted herself.

Persona smirked.

"Ah, dear Lady Contractor. Think about what would happen with the world if actually existed. Fallen Angels, Seraphs, Demons, Devils, Rakshasas, Pagan Gods and Legendary Heroes. Fight Michael and his army with a ten-horned dragon in the name of Woman clothed in the Sun. Swam Leviathan through the oceans. That's why the stories of the gods and monsters are so good – that's because none of them really happened. However... I think you got the idea."

Taylor understood. She lived at a time when people had new Heroes and new Monsters. She was the victim of the system herself. But Alice continued:

"But, meanwhile, we exist. Beyond reality and the objective, we are. Each of us, be it a Hero or a Monster, an Angel or a Demon, a Saint or a Heretic. We remember our lives and our deaths, as long as they have been. For us, our history is a reality. That is the essence."

"That is... For you, it really happened? A story made up by people... created you? - Taylor was a little insecure about it.

Alice nodded.

"Yes. Human faith breathed life into us and gave us strength. But that was just the beginning. Created by human faith, we continued to exist outside of our own stories and inside them at the same time. It's hard to explain, but we've long been more than just living stories."

-"You **[Persona]** ... Aspects of the twenty-one **[Arcana]** Tarot, called by the power of the signed **[Contract]** " ... these words have arisen in her head by themselves, unknown knowledge.

"It does, My Lady," Alice nodded, drinking again from the cup.

"Alice... How…No, Why do you differ from them?" Taylor suddenly came up with a question. In fact, Alice was really different from the rest of the Persona that she had been calling up until now. Open, friendly, willing to help. Not that the other Personas didn't do it... Was Alice... simpler? Taylor couldn't give an unambiguous answer, so she decided to ask.

"What are you talking about, Lady?" - Alice looked almost surprised.

"You... are Different from Others I had called before. I don't know. I can't tell you why you're different. Thanatos... He saved my life. Isis healed, Lucifer showed me the truth, Bai-Hu helped me escape, but... You're acting differently for some reason. It was as if you didn't want to help because I was a Contractor. I know it sounds stupid, but..."

"You're right, My Lady." interrupted Persona, "I want to help not because you're Contractor, but because of you. I remember... the city. Like this one. On islands far from here. They brought me back to life, gave me toys... and left me alone. In the whole city. Only my toys, puppets, which quickly get tired of playing with... And that's why we are something alike, Contractor. Something incredibly small and infinitely large, but similar. So... let me tell you one more thing."

"Of course." - the voice of traitorous confusion, so serious and wise looked the girl in front of her, which was difficult to give more years than it was Taylor, if not to know that it was Persona.

"The Sea of Souls is not united, My Lady. Heroes and villains, gods and monsters... The same combinations. Stories that brought them together had long been mixed up and collided. And from that, there will be no end to their strife. Your words will obey the Legion and bow the head of the Archangel. But each of them will see his own way. They do not want any harm, no. But the ideas that lead them to lead to different outcomes. And only you have to choose where you go," Persona said, clutching an empty cup.

Taylor was silent. Millions of thoughts were buried in her head, unable to connect in a single chain. Everything was simple and logical, but at the same time, it didn't fit in her head. Finally, she asked:

"Who were you with, Alice Liddell?"

Persona smiled.

"Ah, Contractor, never liked "eat this" and "drink that". Truth is always somewhere in the middle. There are those who put someone else's interest above their own. But enough with serious conversations, My Lady. Would you like some tea?"

A teapot appeared in her hand.

"Of course" Taylor accepted Persona's offer with a tiny smile. Inside her for a second, the inner springs trembled and loosened, which had been so tense the last few days. Perhaps she had finally found an ally.


	11. Ragnarøkkr 202

_Rebecca Costa Brown/Alexandria_

Alexandria has been on pins and needles. So tense that it was clearly visible to every other person in the jet. Lips squeezed into a thin line. Unmoving, tense posture. Almost mechanical, _too well-coordinated_ arm movements, when typing a report via sensor keyboard. She pretended to look calm. But everyone knew the truth.

A private flying machine based on a rotorcraft, designed, developed and produced by Dragon, took her, together with a group of experts directly to the place of the main headache of the entire Protectorate to date. Of course, she was exaggerating on this cause. The upcoming budget plan was far worse in terms of headache, but this whole situation required a delicate approach and she liked to sort this whole mess by herself.

Brockton Bay has always been... an interesting city. Not the biggest, not the richest, not the most dangerous. Slowly dying after Leviathan walked by during the attack on Newfoundland. Smothered by the crime and government inefficiency. But it was in Brockton Bay where the All-Father, Marquis, Kaiser, Panacea, and Teeth were born. Brockton Bay was a place where individuals such as Lung, Coil, Armsmaster, Labyrinth and a couple of others capes decided to settle down no less important. Brockton Bay was a melting pot, a cauldron where cape forces collided without strict supervision. A fine, concentrated example of a brave new world's ugliest sides. Once Alexandria tried to do something, but almost immediately her actions were postponed and redirected by Contessa's intervention. That was until recently.

After the last Cauldron meeting, which was _meaningful_ at last, Rebecca very closely watched for all kinds of variables that could change so much. She looked for something powerful, something game-changing. And the hospice situation immediately caught her attention. But when Path told her to wait, and Alexandria waited. Yesterday, however, her personal communicator received a four-word message.

 _"The time has come."_

And Rebecca rushed to action. The conversation with Piggot came out... informative. Of course, she didn't get the whole picture, Piggot was pretty stingy on the details, but even such a squeeze was enough for Rebecca to realize the scale of the situation.

Trigger is not for nothing called "the worst day of life," it's the only way to get the Agent involved. And for Taylor Hebert, that day lasted a month. The butterfly effect in its mighty self. A lot of seemingly unrelated incidents, not quite ordinary, but quite unimportant from a global point of view, provoked a series of events that led to one of the most powerful triggers that Alexandria has ever met. And now, thanks to the very clumsy actions of her subordinates, she will have to deal with all this herself.

From the porthole, she could see the gradually approaching coastline of the East Coast. And that meant that the almost five-hour flight was coming to an end. Not that she could not make it on her own, but the status and the team of experts on board prevented her from doing so. And who said anything human wasn't alien to her?

Finishing her report, Alexandria turned to her subordinate sitting across from her. Dwight Macready was one of her specialists in human psychology, and he was the one most often trusted to work with particularly complex capes, whose abilities or personality make them too dangerous, but it was not profitable to declare a cape a villain for one reason or another.

"Dr. Macready, what do you think our chances are of successfully recruiting Pantheon?"

The doctor looked at Alexandrian for some time before chewing his lips thoughtfully to answer:

"I can't say I fully understand the situation, but based on the known facts, I would say it's extremely low. Family Tragedy, bullying, coma, badly chosen words. Pantheon, first of all, is a teenage girl. And they are known to be very prone to the accumulation of negativity and lack of piety in front of the Authorities, which is represented by Wards and Protectorate. And the actions of the Shadow Stalker makes us not the best guys in a story."

"So you think the recruiting option is unrealistic?" Rebecca squinted under her mask.

"I'd say unlikely. I don't know how your face-to-face meeting with her could affect her actions. But I doubt it'll make a big difference."

"That pretty sums up my thoughts for today. Thank you, Dwight." heroine nodded gratefully to an old man.

"It's my job, ma'am." the doctor responded with a polite nod.

The brief dialogue calmed down, and the cabin plunged into silence, which, however, did not last long, because after twenty minutes their transport came to land on a special platform on the roof of the Protectorate Rig.

Piggot herself came out to meet Alexandria. This full woman of forty years was one of the most obvious examples of the post-Golden Age. Once a hopeful field agent, reduced to a crippled woman, in constant need of medical support. That was the cost of one of many mistakes that PRT did through years. One example which provided a valuable lesson to all of them but at a great cost.

Piggot could have been honorary discharged with a lifetime pension, but that woman was one of a kind. Biased in her view of capes? Yes, but knowing almost everything about them, Alexandria cannot say that she wasn't right in her opinion. But Piggot got a _spine_ that allowed her to coexist and somehow control that complete clusterfuck which Brocton Bay indeed was.

"Pleased to meet you, Director Piggot." Alexandria greeted the woman as she barely left the transporter.

"Good afternoon, Alexandria. How was your flight? " - They both understood and accepted the rules of this polite game, which lasted exactly until one of the players decided to finish it. And Rebecca decided to take the bull by the horns.

"Better than on my own. But, Director, let's get to the point. Director Costa Brown has provided me all the information I need, but I'd like to hear it from you in person."

Piggot's face darkened. Bags under her eyes seem to have increased in size.

"I think... we should discuss all this in my office. It's not going to be a short story."

After that phrase, she turned sharply on her heels and moved towards the entrance to the interior of the base as fast she could do so.

Without saying anything, the masked heroine moved after her.

Alexandria was gloomy. It was all Piggot could say, judging mood by the small part of her face that the mask left uncovered. But the crooked lips and the charged atmosphere in the room for some reason left the director with no doubt that the information voiced did not lighten the mood of Triumvirate member. However, if you think about it, it was quite an obvious outcome of events.

The heroine was sitting in front of Piggot, folding her hands at her chin, completely depriving herself of any movement. It was so unnatural that even Emily who was accustomed to parahuman habits felt uncomfortable.

Finally, Alexandria spoke:

"Director, what I have just heard is one of the worst examples of incompetence of the PRT staff, which I only know about. It's a miracle that journalists didn't learn about this fiasco." - Alexandria's voice was calm and cold as Arctic ice. And yet, only the deaf wouldn't hear a note of irritation and discontent in it.

"We were constrained in our means, ma'am," Piggot was not used to looking for excuses, but it was a special occasion.

"What means, Emily? What were you thinking when you let that fool Stalker go to Winslow? Arcadia was specifically chosen as placement for Wards. Because we are sure that they can identify and prevent this situation. I know it. Director Costa Brown knows it. _You_ know it. So let me ask again, Emily, _why was she going to Winslow?_ " - it was a reinforced concrete argument that actually pinned director to the wall. It was her signature that was under the resolution that allowed Stalker to visit Winslow on an exceptional basis.

"Her lawyer insisted on it…" Piggott ran out of arguments, but she did not want to admit defeat so easily. Futile attempt and she knew it.

"Director, why do I have to remind you that you're head of PRT branch? That you keep the law and order on the streets, protecting them from gangs, villains and those who are Stalker-like? Stalker was put on probation, Director. That means that you acknowledged, that Stalker is _in need of constant supervision._ The rules for such cases are written by blood, and you're insanely lucky that Pantheon was sane enough to call for a healing projection to save the lives of your people, who were in danger through your own fault!"

"She is insane!" the director exclaimed in her heart, irritated by the mention of the Pantheon's escape from the hospital.

"Are you a parapsychologist? As far as I know, Miss Yamada is still in shock" - sarcasm in Alexandria's voice were almost physically dripping with poison. " Director, let's be honest - you all made a mess of it. Stalker, Barnes, Yamada, Armsmaster, all of you. And the mess is so bad, that even fear for what will happen if a worst-case scenario occurs"

"Worst-case scenario?"

"You don't have to pretend, Emily. You know what the worst-case scenario is. You were there for one thing. Nobody wants to add Brocton to the quarantine list"

Emily's obviously pale. The paintings of that day, ten years ago, were still too alive in her memory. And Alexandria's purposeful words woke up these ghosts of the past.

"You can't…" - she attempted to speak, but Alexandria stopped her.

"I can and I definitely will if the situation would spiral out of our control. We know next to nothing about her abilities but can only guess about their deadliness or versatility. Our analytics reevaluated her."

"And?" - Piggot managed to get control of herself, which earned her a fair amount of points in Alexandria's view.

"Trump 7 at least."

The woman clenched her fists, soothing her rapidly beating heart. And the heroine, satisfied with the director's reaction, meanwhile continued:

"Okay. That's enough verbal lace. Here's my suggestion, Piggot. I have the authority and the tasks to do. And no time for games. You know what's coming. And while I'm here, I say - you do. It's over - we're splitting up, no strings attached. I think Director Costa Brown will be satisfied with the result. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Piggot exhaled through her teeth, imagining what might happen if she did not. But she was pissed off by this whole situation to the extreme. And she was all the more nervous about having to work for a cape, even a cape like Alexandria. Especially if this cape _was_ Alexandria.

"Very well." -heroine nodded, knowing the answer in advance. There was no need for the Path to Victory, just a little blackmail and authority pressure

"In that case, do you have any data about Pantheon's current location?"

" Last time the cameras picked her up she was in the Docks. Anyway, that's where we last caught the traces of her Projection. It's reasonable to assume that she's still there." - A sudden change of subject helped, Emily, found the strength to calm down a little to answer the question quickly.

"I agree. She couldn't have gone far in a hospital gown on her barefoot. Although I don't think that's gonna stop her. There are not much stopping high trumps at all."

"Those Projections of hers..."

" Yes. Each time they appeared in response to quite specific requests. When she wanted to save herself from death, called the Mortician. She wanted to be healed, called on Isis. She wanted to defend herself... and called on Bai Hu."

" Bai Hu?" - Director didn't hear that name. Or moniker. Definitely something Asian.

" We assume that the basis of Pantheon power is the creation of independent projections based on mythology. The beast she called upon is very similar to the descriptions of the White Tiger, Guardian of the West and one of China's four sacred animals. Director Costa Brown has included a mythology specialist in the group so that we can make a probable list of the forces of her projections."

" So... What do you want from me for now, Alexandria? asked the woman after a short silence to reflect on the information she received.

" Not much at all. Show me where Stalker's cell is and arrange a press conference."

"It's not like you're gonna…"

"You already gave your consent, Director. Don't make me feel regret it."

"Roger that, Alexandria."

When Alexandria walked into her cell, Sofia suddenly realized she was in trouble. Not that this thought had not come to her for the last seventy-two hours, but with Triumvirate member in her cell, the situation took a really bad turn.

Sophia was not a fool and was well aware that she had no chance against Alexandria, let alone that she was still in a high-security cell with electricity flowing through the walls.

"Sophia Hess, I assume" - Alexandria's voice was dry and expressed absolutely no emotion. And it was frightening.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Well. Since you _were_ a member of Wards you're informed about how Unwritten Rules apply to Protectorate capes civilian identities, yes?"

"Of course" Alexandria nodded

"That's good. Because you would manage to understand my trick. Do you want to know about my trick, Sophia?"

"It's not like I have a choice ma'am"

"Smart girl. I almost pity you. You see, before going here I asked Dragon to turn off the cameras in your cell. For privacy reasons of course. The trick is, that somehow our talk would reveal some very well kept secrets. Such as secret identities. Since i know yours already that would be mine. Fear not. I won't grant you this knowledge. But here's the magic. Everybody will think that you do.

That automatically makes you an A-class threat. There's a corresponding mark on your file already. Do you know what happens to capes that have that class of danger if they fight back?"

Sophia swallowed a tight lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. Kill Orders. Or Birdcage.

The heroine took a close look at her. There was still no emotion on her face. And it scared her.

"I see that you understand. That's good. Let me explain the situation to you for a moment. You and your girlfriends basically tortured girl until she went comatose. And then she triggered. Not really worth of my attention, not you first, not you last. Believe me, we've already got a whole bunch of you in Alaska. But there's one little problem, Stalker. What you've done has gone beyond that one person you nearly killed. Trigger you called killed forty-nine people. Forty-eight in the hospital and one shortly before that. Forty-nine corpses, Stalker. Isn't that a little too much for a snotty girl? It doesn't matter, though. It's your problem. The thing is, Sophia, people, living people, started asking questions that we can't answer. And do you know why?"

Sofia knew. She knew too well. The perfect pattern seemed to turn against her in an instant.

" People ask questions, and we can't give answers. And for a second, think about what happens if all that shit you've done comes out. What are the consequences for the entire organization, for the Protectorate? Your stunt could easily force back our attempts in making peace with society and government for an entire decade at least. And that's a problem, Hess. Big enough that it matters to me personally."

Alexandria's face expressed emotion for the first time. It was a smile.

But Stalker thought it would be better not to be born at all than to look at a smile with which you can kill babies and burn cities with all the residents. Simultaneously.

"And you know, I don't like problems. And so, Hess, you have a choice. In three or four days, I'm obliged to hold a press conference here on the Pantheon investigation. But I can always kill two birds at once and say that one of the Guards has an important press announcement. And guess who's gonna be that Ward?"

Alexandria raised her eyebrow expressively, asking a rhetorical question.

"All in all, Hess, you have three options. You go on stage, you take a mike, and you tell everyone you broke the rules of your trial period. A rapist gets shot or something. We'll arrange a reason for you. I nod my head understandably and send you to Anchorage with my peace of mind to guard the city against a polar bear kamikaze attack. From a public relations standpoint, it'll be a headache, but not you first, not you last. The second option is you take a microphone and heartily say you're leaving the Wards for some reason. Whatever it takes, we'll organize it again. Everything is fine, peaceful, we nod our heads understandably and let you go free with a pure soul, where the police are waiting for you, who sends you to the Correctional Centre. On paper, of course, you'll be in juvie, but the right word, the difference is small. Or did you think you could get away with a crime like that? You're gonna sit there for a couple of years on easy levels, you're gonna come out, and you might even try to be a hero again. And finally, you can try to run away. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're not even cuffed. I'll even give you a head start in a couple of days. Except... while you were lying unconscious, Armsmaster implanted a Tinkertech tracker under your skin that can track you to within a couple of meters. And then I'm gonna give your old friend Pantheon tracker tuned to that tracker's signal. I think it will make your predator life a little more diverse." Alexandria pointed to the quotes with her fingers, before opening the cell door.

"It's up to you, Hess. And please understand that one thing. You're prey now. And this prey must pray that her predator would be merciful to her. Do you understand who is who?"

Sophia understood.

There was a knock on the door. Loud enough for her to hear and wake up. She froze, trying not to move, fear stifled her nature again.

Knock repeated, but this time, a couple of seconds after the second knock, someone pushed a stack of bills through the barely visible gap under the door.

Unbelieving her eyes, she went as quietly as possible to the door and picked up the unexpected package.

The first banknote was written on it in wide handwriting:

 _"I will not harm you or nor I am associated with Protectorate. Please, let me help you.."_

She had doubts. She was afraid. She didn't believe it. But when she looked back and saw Persona's cheering smile, she opened the door to a stranger.

 _AN: *Hides Necronomicon* Well, it's alive. Hope i'll be able to write more chapters before Christmas_


	12. Ragnarøkkr 203

She had doubts. She was afraid. She did not believe in it. However, when she looked back and saw the cheering smile of Persona, she opened the door to a stranger.

There was a woman standing in front of her. Quite tall, about 5.6 feet, she was dressed in some sort of strict office suit with a white shirt and black tie tied around her neck. In addition, she wore a black fedora like some gangster from old mafia movies.

Seeing Taylor woman barely smiled. After that, she carefully and slowly raised her hands, probably showing her that she is unarmed.

"W-who are you?" That was probably the most obvious question to start this weird conversation.

"I'm afraid my name, or even nickname, won't tell you anything. But you can call me Tyche."

Taylor tried to look at her face, find at least some fake, something to help her decide. However, there was nothing. This woman... Her facial expression was blank. Nothing that Taylor could see or feel.

"Like the goddess of luck?" Another stupid question to ask. Nevertheless, right now It just felt… right.

"Yes." Tyche were standing motionless, like a marble statue.

"H-how did you find me?" Panic attack suddenly hit Taylor. Even if Tyche seemed harmless, but she did tracked her. That means that other people also might to do so. They could hurt her. Like _them._

 _. …_

However, the woman in the costume hurried to calm her down:

"Don't worry; no one can track you down the way I did"

Somehow, Tyche words made sense. She wanted to believe her. To believe to that one person in whole world besides her Projections even if they seemed to be so real.

"Are you sure?" Asked Taylor in a weak tone.

"Believe me, if anyone else can use my way - the world will be in great danger," there was _something_ in woman's voice that Taylor immediately believed that world will be somehow doomed if somebody managed to utilize that exact way.

However, that does not meant that she believed to Tyche.

"Why are you here? You want something from me, don't you?" Taylor looked back to see Alice, a faithful servant, frozen behind her shoulder, ready to protect her Contractor in case of danger. For a fraction of second, she thought that there were some shiny object in Alice hand, but her hand was empty.

The woman, meanwhile, remained calm on the doorstep, as if gathering her thoughts.

"Imagine seeing a man stuck in a bog. You are in a big hurry somewhere, the case that awaits you is very important. Usually you would pass by, leaving this man in a swamp. There is nothing wrong in it. You are in hurry. Your work is _important_. " Tyche paused before continuing: "Now imagine that at one single moment you realize that if you stop now, decide to help this man, sacrificing your precious time. Then, somehow, somewhere in the future, that man, who now is stuck in a mire will help you to achieve your final goal faster and easier."

"And I am that man in the mire?"

Was she important? Can she be important? But how? How Tyche could know?

No, Taylor was not stupid and understood that her power, whatever it was, was powerful. It was hard not to realize. It was all too fast for her. Too abrupt and unfamiliar.

Tyche nodded

"Exactly. I can help you because you can help me, no, all of us at long distance. Call it a long-term investment"

"Could I just say "no"? Ask you to leave?"

"Of course you can. The path will reach its goal anyway. I'm just trying to be as efficient as possible."

"And you won't tell anyone about me being here?" It was naive of her to assume that, but this whole conversation was too strange for her to be certain in anything.

\- That won't be necessary. No matter if I say anything to anyone, the Path will remain the same.

Taylor turned to Alice with a silent question. She did not know if this person could tell the truth from the lie, but something told her that it was very difficult to deceive an embodiment of Wonderlands madness.

Alice kept staring at Tyche. Her wide blue eyes looked so empty and lifeless that they seemed puppet-shaped.

\- Dead Fragment of a Great. A Prophet named "Luck" You are not lying, Seer of Paths. However, you are far from the truth, too.

Tyche immediately answered.

"Truth is subjective, so is reality, Alice. You are the one who knows it best, aren't you? That the truth is a beautiful lie for some people. Somewhere, Alice is a little girl trapped in a dead city with thousands of dead dolls. Somewhere, a patient in an asylum with surrealistic nightmares. And somewhere, a brave warrior who fought Jabberwocky on Brave Day. It is all true. I do not wish your contractor any harm; I do not want to use it. I can help her. I want help her. So she could choose to help me somewhere in the future."

"Is these intentions good?" Taylor was in a weird half-trance watching two... creatures talking. Tyche and Alice from Wonderland. What a strange combination. A prophet and a girl from a half mad fairy tale. It was an oddity. Some kind of peculiar, twisted irony.

In addition, she felt like she was not the only one looking at what was going on. There, behind the gate, they were watching. Isis, Lucifer, Bai Hu. Familiar and unfamiliar, Evil and Good. All of them were watching this scene. They saw an importance in this dialog. Something that Taylor cannot comprehend on her own.

"There's no difference between the good and the bad. There's only a purpose and a way to achieve it."

"And what is it?"

"To stop a creature that seeks to destroy this world."

"And his name?"

Tyche were silent. She was gloomy. Her face seemed serene, as if wrapped in the shadow of a heavy burden that lies on her shoulders. She looked at Taylor. There was regret in her eyes.

"That name… is easy to pronounce. The only question is, are you ready to hear it, Taylor. Are you ready to carry that burden on your back? I know that happened to you. This knowledge could break you. "

 _"I…"_

The words she wanted to say stopped in her throat, unable to break free. Tyche was right. Too many things, too scary, too painful. Reduced to mere nobody, alone, hunted by PRT, and only her own newfound power saves her. Moreover, right now, in this very moment she is offered to dive into the deepest rabbit hole, to learn something very clearly forbidden.

She can make that choice. But... how could she make it right?

 _His Child. The Gift of Choice Bestowed On You. You Carve Your Path And We Will Follow_

 _Daughter of Eve, You're Free From Deeds Of Mine. This Choice is Yours Completely_

Voices talking in her head. An Angel. A Devil. Each of them did not give her the answer she was looking for. In despair, she looked at Alice. But she was only saying a few words:

 _"Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?_

 _The Cheshire Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to._

 _Alice: I don't much care where._

 _The Cheshire Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go._

 _Alice: ...So long as I get somewhere._

 _The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough."_

"I don't care where I want to go." She really didn't care. All the roads were closed and open at the same time, she just stood at the intersection unable to choose the side to go to.

But... if time can wait, why not to stand at this intersection waiting for a ride?

"I... you are right. I'm not ready. Not right now. But tell me... If I accept to your help, and if I see you again... Will you give me that name?"

Tyche smiled. Bright and clear. Smile that looked... alien on that serene face.

"No matter how many times we met, Taylor. I will await your question."

"Then... maybe I should ask, how you can help me?"

Woman nodded satisfactorily.

"I think it might be worthwhile to start by telling you some useful things for every cape, and then... I'll introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine."

 _AN:This one is pretty short, but hope you won't regret it. Happy Holidays!_

I'll try to post next one soon.


	13. Ragnarøkkr 204

Taylor did not notice how the three of them moved smoothly to the table, which, at the beckoning of Alice's hand, was rid of scraps and excessive piles of dishes and cutlery, replaced by an exquisite set of three persons and an elegant kettle, filled with a delicious tea.

All her attention was captured by Tyche. She talked about Unwritten Rules – some kind of universal laws referring to capes. Obviously, Tyche was a cape. No, she suspected a lot of things, there were persistent rumors about something like that in that endless number of forums dedicated to the capes, and where the all-seeing moderators of the PHO could not get to.

Taylor unwittingly smiled when she heard about the integrity of the Capes civilian identity if they didn't make it public by themselves. She just didn't have that choice. Pantheon... That was the name they had given her.

Now they were inextricably linked. Teenage newly orphaned homeless girl Taylor and fugitive vigilante Pantheon. And both were exposed to the whole world. No way to hide and lay low, no hope of giving it all up.

The die was cast for her. Her Rubicon crossed, and bridges burnt.

She laughed nervously when she heard about the ban on sexual abuse. Apparently, Sophia attached very little importance to such things.

Prohibition on lethal firearms, three-strike rule, Endbringer Truce. A lot of stuff.

It was all-important, and it all needed an explanation. And Tyche _explained_. At one point, Taylor began to realize that much of what she was talking about concerned PRT and Protectorate internal work and regulations. Which capes are immediately taken over and which are not so zealous to chase for. Biotinkers, High-end Thinkers, Trumps, dangerous Contacts and Shakers, capes, Manton-free capes - all these categories were observed very closely.

She knew very well that she had managed to match, if not all, at least half the categories at once. And she wasn't really happy about it. As Tyche explained, Protectorate is seriously confused about what to do with her. However, they come to a conclusion not to pursue her and to avoid contact for the time being. But when things settle down...

Tyche suggested that sooner or later someone with real influence in the Protectorate would somehow get in touch with her to negotiate. That was inevitable. Fortuna offered to take control of the situation and use one of her own PRT contacts as a negotiator.

The mere thought of something like that gave Taylor irrational fear and chills in the back. Her memories of Sophia and her connection to the Protectorate were painfully fresh. But Tyche immediately assured her that she could vouch for her contact and his trustworthiness. It didn't give Taylor any confidence in the whole thing, but she didn't really have a choice. She was strictly limited in her choices, hoping it wouldn't escalate into something even worse than it is right now. So she agreed.

When the basics were over, Tyche took the phone out of her jacket. Nothing super-ordinary, a simple slider. After a few seconds of pressing various buttons, she called to someone.

"Hello, Number Man." at that moment, Taylor could have sworn that Tyche made tremendous effort to say this man's cape name, not something else.

After listening to a short answer from her interlocutor, which Taylor herself did not hear, she continued the conversation.

"It's about Pantheon. I think you've heard. We need shelter. Brockton Bay. Something comfortable, quiet..." – Tyche glanced at Taylor, "with a full wardrobe and a fridge. For two weeks so far."

This time, the wait was long. The woman was silent, waiting for Number Man's answer, looking somewhere far away. But finally, a voice on the other end of the wire said something.

"Yes, she's with me."

After that, she gave a phone to Taylor

 _"Miss Pantheon, I presume?"_ a nice man's baritone sounded on the other end of the wire.

"Y-yes."

 _"Listen to me carefully. Downtown. The crossroad between Twelfth and Fourth. Seven-story building with a brick facade. Go inside and say "9.11.01 New York" to the concierge. They'll give you a key. The apartment's yours for two weeks. The food will be delivered right in front of the door. The doorbell will ring twice. Understood?"_ the Number Man's voice was calm and as if mechanically accurate.

"Twelfth and Fourth, brick facade, "9.11.01 New York" Y- I think I memorized."

 _"Excellent. Please put… her on the phone."_

Taylor immediately followed that request, handing the phone back to its owner. The one who took it perfectly calmly and, having listened to the Accountant, answered:

"The usual. You know the account number. And please keep this number."

At the end of the call, the woman closed the lid of the phone and then handed it back to Taylor.

"Here you go. This line will not be listened to, and your anonymity is safe."

Taylor froze when she saw the phone stretched out. Dad... Danny didn't like cell phones. From the moment Annette crashed in the car accident, she didn't have to hold at least a dumping cell phone.

And take one now… Take the phone from this unknown woman... She wanted it. She wanted to get help from her. But she didn't want to forget. She cannot allow herself to betray his memory…

"I don't think your father would mind."

Taylor flinched, raising her eyes to Tyche. How did she know?

"How do you know?"

Tyche smiled, looking right at her. But she didn't answer. There was no need for one.

The girl turned her gaze back on Tyche's handheld phone.

Yeah. She... she was right. Danny wanted only the best for her.

She reached out and took the phone out of her hands, smiling at Fortune bravely in return.

"So... what's next?"

"I think I'll accompany you on the way to your new apartment. It's not hard, and with me it's less likely to you to get into trouble. Hope you won't mind.

All Taylor had to do was smile insecurely while clutching a newly purchased phone. 

*linebreak*

 _Brockton Bay Wards Headquarters_

The Wards were depressed. Aegis didn't even have to look at his teammates to figure it out. The very atmosphere that prevailed in the briefing room spoke eloquently about it. Even Clockblocker was gloomy. And it wasn't about the new cape, Wards had already faced it more than once. And not even on the scale of destruction and number of victims, even if it was their first such experience. Not at all.

Wards were smothered by the knowledge of _involvement_ in everything that happened.

Shadow Stalker, Sophia Hess, there was no difference in this case, were a Ward. Their teammate. The girl who went on patrol with them, trained, rested and had their back in battle.

And at the same time, she was a maniacal psychotic bitch, who bullied, poisoned and tortured innocent girl.

And their attempts were successful. And now everyone - Wards, Protectorate, Brocton Bay citizens - must deal with the consequences of this unjustified brutality.

Pantheon escaped only yesterday, and things already went down the hill. Mayor Christner, under public pressure, was forced to demand answers from the Protectorate about what had happened. Hospitals were off-limits, and everyone knew that. And Pantheon broke that rule

Yes, it turned out that no one was hurt, and the arrival of the Isis was filmed on television cameras, but the very fact of precedent remained. As an interim measure, the Protectorate had to send its troops to key buildings in the city, creating a sense of security.

But it was only the least of all the problems. The very fact that the Pantheon appeared on Brockton Bay's board of power finally broke fragile power balance between the gangs.

While the Protectorate was busy dealing with the hospital situation, members of the Empire-88, led by Hookwolf, demolished a warehouse belonging to the ABB. Police arrived only when fight was already over to find out an empty warehouse and several badly beaten ABB thugs pinched to walls.

And now Lung had to reciprocate to Empire.

When that happens Protectorate will have no choice but to intervene. Potential gang war will affect citizens. And eternal conflict will start anew.

There was one "But" left. Pantheon. A walking ticking bomb with bullshit near-Triumvirate level potential. And she clearly showed them, that allying with PRT was not an option to her right now.

If Kaiser succeeds in recruiting her...

No one wanted to think about that outcome. But it was quite real.

And there was a realization that all this could be prevented, that the root cause of everything that happened, the smallest domino knuckle that started this avalanche, was in their team the whole time. If they could saw Sophia's sadistic tendencies, her... hobbies.

Yeah, they couldn't follow her to school, but...

It was a meaningless cycle of self-accusations. Guilt burned Aegis from the inside. It wasn't even six months after Triumph moved to the Protectorate, leaving Aegis in command and he went him down…

He was distracted by Miss Militia, who continued to describe the overall situation to Wards.

"Director Costa Brown sent a team led by Alexandria to resolve the situation."

That name was tantamount to a gong strike for the detainees. One of the strongest Protectorate members here at Brockton Bay?

"A-alexandria?" shockingly asked Vista, who looked now as if all the air had been kicked out of her.

Miss Militia nodded.

" That's right. Even though officially she came to investigate the incident with Stalker and solve the situation with the Pantheon, unofficially Alexandria agreed to remind the gangs why fighting with the Protectorate is a bad idea."

"Why not just crush them all at once? ABB, Empire, Merchants, and even Coil can be nailed if we have Alexandria here?" Aegis was barely able to hold himself from facepalm. Clock was in his repertoire, as always.

Miss Militia also took a breath.

"Because no one in their right mind would take that risk. Even us. With Alexandria's help, we may be able to grab some capes, but the rest of them will leave. They'll leave and lurk to hit again. Besides, Clockblocker, do you have any idea how much destruction escalating

Lung can cause? And escalated Lung fighting against Alexandria?

Aegis saw Clock swallowing nervously. However, Carlos himself did not suffer from a lack of imagination. Battles against the most powerful Changer to date, not to mention the fact that this monster became known for its own battle against Leviathan on almost equal terms. And he had no desire to test what Lung is capable to do.

"In any case," continued Militia, "the patrol schedule for the next week will change, as will the route. I don't know yet how, the director and Alexandria still haven't agreed on this. And most importantly. If you see the Pantheon," a young girl's face appeared on the screen behind the woman's back, "Standby. Report to Console, but _never_ attempt to get closer or contact her. Does everyone understand?"

Wards nodded.

*linebreak*

"I knew that Sophia was full of shit, but she's magnitudes worse than I imagined" muttered Kid Win into nowhere, laying down on the sofa in the recreation area looking at the ceiling.

"Mm-hmm, and now there's a Potential Trump-9 wandering around the city, capable of calling on different mythological fauna," Aegis with a thoughtful view was looking at the glass with water poured into it.

"I wonder what will happen to her now... To the Pantheon, I mean" Vista was sitting at the sofa hugging giant teddy bear, putting her chin on his head.

"Usually rogues don't live long, but in her case... It depends on how adequate she is and how much the whole story has hit her. Maybe Alexandria can persuade her to join the Wards."

"She was afraid..." said Gallant doing something over his phone. Possibly chatting with Glory Girl.

"What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday... at the hospital. She was near the border of my sensitivity, but I could feel her emotions. What she felt... Anger, confusion, that's understandable... But there was even more fear."

"Well... I guess that's understandable. It's not every day you're told that the Wards member, led you to a trigger and actually caused the death of your only parent," Kid Win wince said.

His words were met with severe silence. Yeah, no one would even think to blame them for what happened. But sometimes people are the best executioners for themselves.

So they sat for a few long minutes before Aegis decided to move.

Carlos got up from the sofa and moved towards the elevator.

"Where are you going?" asked Missy

"I'm going to see the Director. I want permission to see Sophia"

Clockblocker stood up:

"What the hell do you want with that, Carlos? After all the mess she'd made..." Dennis, without agreeing, interrupted at half a word, stumbling upon Aegis' look.

" Because this is not a friendly visit, Dan. I want to look her in the eye, you know? To look into the eyes of the… _former hero_. That one hero who singlehandedly did more damage to Protectorate and this town that half of this city villains did in their whole life. I... want to understand why. What was all that for. Why would she do that? Why couldn't she just..."

"Become a proper hero?" - Carlos was interrupted by a voice coming from opened elevator doors.

"The problem is, Carlos, there's a huge difference between all of you and Stalker. The difference in choice. You chose to be Ward members while Stalker was assigned hereunder threat from the Correctional Center. Not that she won't go there... or anywhere worse anytime soon, but the point stays. Stalker couldn't have been a hero just because she didn't want to. She has other goals and ideas. A different philosophy, to put it this way."

"Yes. We remember. "Hunters" and "Prey" - eloquently commented Kid Win.

Triumph waved confirming as if pointing to Dennis's words.

"So meeting with Stalker makes absolutely no sense, Carlos. You'll make only worse to yourself. And this is where it is better to find the strength to move on. It's not your fault"

Carlos looked at Triumph with uncertainty.

"I guess you're right. But what happens to her?"

Triumph shrugged his shoulders:

"I don't think even Director knows anything about that. Today Alexandria came to visit Sophia's cell and talked to Hess about something for ten minutes. But I think next Wednesday we will know for sure - Alexandria asked the director to hold a press conference. I think that's when they'll announce it. At least the official version."

"And Pantheon?"

"I have no idea. But... I think Alexandria has a plan for everything. There's a reason Director Costa Brown sent a member of the Triumvirate here. I think they'll manage to do something"

"Judging by your look and absolute joy you're feeling, you managed to meet her "

Triumph smiled victoriously, and then took out of his pocket the form of a notebook with some kind of stroke.

"You're right. I met her in the corridor and took some autographs. Here, take it. There's enough for everybody"

Before the Triumph could notice, he was almost buried under the bodies of former comrades-in-arms fighting for the right to rip out a leaf with an autograph from his notebook.

 _AN:Happy New Year!_

 _Maybe you could leave a reply as a gift to me?_


End file.
